The Long and Winding Road
by laoisbabe
Summary: My version of what happened after Greg's shooting. Story starts straight after the scene of Ed holding Greg and waiting for help, continues through the next few months. Nothing too graphic but a lot of angst. SPOILER ALERT for series finale.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N - this is my first Flashpoint fan fic. I am a relatively recent convert and I loved the series finale. Being a bit of a hurt/comfort junkie, I would have loved to have seen what happened between the time Sam went for help and the "one year later" bit. So this is my version. Nothing too graphic but a bit angsty.**

** A****ll mistakes are my own. I didn't want to put my BETA under pressure around Xmas time so this is unbeta'd. **

**Disclaimer - I do not own any of these characters, I'm just borrowing them!**

**The Long and Winding Road**

**Chapter 1**

"Greg, stay, stay here. You're not going anywhere. Stay here. You're staying here. Medic! Medic!"

Ed Lane yelled desperately as he cradled the weakening body of his fallen friend. Sergeant Greg Parker was fading, his eyes rolling in his head as he slowly succumbed to the injuries he had sustained. Ed stared back towards the door that Sam had ran back through to get help. He willed them to get there quickly.

He clung frantically to his partner whose breathing was becoming weaker and more laboured with each breath, his eyes now closed.

"Greg. Stay with me, Buddy. Come on. Open your eyes. Greg!" he pleaded, pulling him closer to him. "Greg, we're not done, please, just stay with me."

Another rasping inhalation of breath told Ed that his best friend was still with him, another trickle of blood from his mouth as he exhaled, proof that he was still fighting. Ed glanced back down the gangway impatiently. Where were they? How long had they been waiting? It felt like forever though it had barely been a minute since Sam had gone.

As he returned his attention to his friend, his eyes strayed upon the dead body of Marcus Faber, the bomber he had "neutralized". He looked down at Greg's bloodied face. He had already lost Donna thanks to that lunatic. He came very close to losing his son. There was no way he could cope with losing Greg as well.

His muddled musings were broken by heavy footfalls on the metal walkway, coming towards him. He was relieved to see Sam racing towards him, closely followed by two medics in military garb. The medics, from the CFMS, had been triaging the injured at the stadium when they heard the call for assistance from Braddock. With all other EMTs occupied, they were quick to offer assistance and grabbed whatever medical supplies they could and followed the SRU officer up into the roof of the stadium.

"He's dying. You've got to help him," Ed pleaded, as one medic loomed over him. Tears poured down his face.

"Okay, Sir," the medic said, kneeling down beside the pair. "You can let go. I've got him."

Ed looked at him, but was reluctant to relinquish his friend to this stranger. Sam understood immediately what was happening and stepped in. Ed was in shock. Sam came around behind him and took him by the shoulders and guided him to his feet.

"Let them work, Ed," he said, taking a couple of steps back so the second medic could access their patient.

Expertly, the two medics removed Greg's Kevlar vest to give them better access to his chest wound. They rolled him and saw that there was no exit wound. That meant a higher likelihood of more extensive internal injuries. They noticed that he was also bleeding heavily from another wound just above his knee. One of them checked his pulse; the other leaned over and closely listened to his breathing. They exchanged subtle concerned glances as one of them removed a field dressing from his medical bag and sealed the chest wound. The other applied another dressing to stem the blood loss from Greg's leg wound.

"We need to get him to the hospital…..fast."

However, there was one very big problem. Every ambulance, fire truck and police vehicle was in use thanks to the multiple bombings throughout the city and both the medics and the SRU officers knew it.

One of the medics optimistically radioed central command for emergency transport, but was told that they would have to wait a minimum of twenty minutes before a vehicle would be available. Sam and Ed heard the response and knew their boss didn't have that sort of time.

"Our truck is outside," Ed said, realising it was Greg's only hope.

"Okay, we've no choice. Right, as gently as you can, take a limb and lets move," one of the medics said.

Everyone responded quickly and they were soon on their way down several flights of stairs to ground level. As they carried Greg, Ed radioed Winnie.

"Winnie, are you there?" he asked, knowing that she was. "Call Trinity General and tell them that we need an OR team standing by. We're coming in hot."

"Copy," Winnie replied, biting back another sob.

She had heard through Ed's open mike his pleas to Greg and knew how bad things were. Despite taking the communication off speaker she was unable to hide her upset from Greg's son who was standing only feet from her waiting for news.

"What's happening?" Dean pleaded.

"They're taking your dad to the hospital," she said as calmly as she could. "I'll get someone to take you."

Dean nodded, barely able to speak. He had heard the gunfight. He had heard his father's grunts and cries as he was struck by each bullet. He had heard Ed when he reached his father and his reassurances to the wounded man that he was going to be okay, followed by his impassioned cries for assistance as Greg started to lose consciousness. Then he heard no more. Even though Winnie had told him that Ed had switched off, he suspected that she was sparing him the ordeal of listening to his father dying. He turned to his girlfriend and they hugged tightly.

As the SRU officers and medics exited the stadium carrying the grievously wounded sergeant, one of the medics called to one of the ambulance crews who was loading up their patient, and asked for a thoracotomy kit. They looked at him oddly for a moment and then saw who they were carrying and one of them climbed into the back of their bus and threw them out a kit, wishing them good luck.

"Put him down," the medic ordered and they all obeyed. "He needs a chest drain," he pointed out, as more blood flowed freely from Greg's lips.

They laid him flat and the medic took the kit between his teeth and ripped it open. He took a scalpel and made a small incision in Greg's chest wall. Using his finger he opened the slit wide enough to accept the plastic tube. Sam and Ed turned away as the medic forced the tube into the pleural cavity. Instantly blood poured from the tube and Greg's breathing improved almost immediately. He taped the drain securely in place before getting to his feet.

"Okay, let's go!"

Ed climbed in the back of the truck and held Greg against his chest. One medic climbed in beside them. Sam was already in the driver's seat and ready to go. The other medic stayed behind, knowing there was little else he could do for the injured officer.

Taking off at speed, Sam skilfully guided the SUV through the Toronto streets and arrived at the doors of the Emergency Room in Trinity General within minutes. He jumped from the black SUV and ran into the ER, calling for assistance. The trauma team had been pre-warned by Winnie and were waiting for their arrival. They hurried with a gurney to the truck and carefully loaded the patient onto it. Before Ed had a chance to climb out of the truck, they had whisked his friend away. He was left standing in the open door of the truck, staring towards the doors of the ER, not knowing what to do.

It was Sam's voice that brought him back.

"Ed, I've got to move the truck," Sam told him.

Ed turned towards him and wiped a fresh tear from his face, his friend's blood streaking his face as he did so. He looked at his gloves and gear and only then realised that he was covered in Greg's blood. The sudden realisation made him sick to his stomach. He turned away, leaned one hand on the rear of the truck and retched. Sam saw what had happened and leaned into his gear bag which was in the truck and produced a towel. He handed it to his team leader who was doing his best to compose himself.

"We can't lose him, Sam," Ed said, taking off his blood-stained gloves and throwing them in the back seat before accepting the towel.

Sam slapped his team leader on the back in a gesture of solidarity. He didn't know what to say. He knew as well as Ed did that their boss was in a bad way. He watched as Ed wiped the blood from his face and soaked some of it from his uniform.

As he climbed back into the driver's seat, Jules called him on his cell.

"Sam? What's going on? How's the Sarge?"

"We've just arrived at the ER. They've taken him in. I don't know any more," Sam told her. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. How bad is it, Sam?"

"It looks bad, Jules, real bad."

"I'm on my way over. Winnie asked me to pick Dean up from HQ and take him to the hospital. I'll see you later," she said before hanging up.

"Ed, SIU are going to want your weapon and to do the debriefing as soon as they can," Sam reminded his team leader.

Ed looked at Braddock as if he was crazy.

"I can't just leave him," Ed said, referring to his injured friend.

"It's okay. Jules is on her way and she's picking up Dean. If we go now, we can be back before he's out of surgery," Sam suggested.

Ed considered what his team mate was saying. He knew he was right. He had just killed a man in the line of duty. There was a protocol that had to be followed. He had already broken it by leaving the scene, but there had been exceptional circumstances. He didn't expect any reprimand considering the circumstances.

"Come on," Sam said, guiding him to the passenger seat.

As they drove away, Ed's heart was heavy with guilt. He felt like he was somehow abandoning his friend in his time of need. But deep down he knew that he would just be waiting in a corridor for the next few hours and that there was nothing else he could do. Greg's life was in the hands of the medical staff at Trinity General. He said a silent prayer as they drove away from the hospital. His prayers were interrupted by the shrill ring of his cell phone.

It was his wife, Sophie.

"Hey, Soph," he said, answering immediately.

"You're okay. Thank God," she said sounding relieved. "I just heard from a nurse in the ER that an SRU officer had been brought in. I thought it was you."

"No, Soph, it wasn't me. It was Greg," Ed said, barely able to get the words out.

"Greg? Oh no," she said sounding utterly stunned. "What happened? Is he going to be okay?"

"It's bad, Soph," Ed replied, crestfallen.

"Are you at the hospital?"

"I was outside, but I have to go to SIU for a debriefing," Ed told her.

Sophie knew the implications of a visit to SIU for and SRU officer. It meant lethal force had been used. She couldn't help but be overwhelmed with concern for her husband.

"Ed, baby, are you okay?"

Ed broke down. His attempts to control the sobs were answer enough. He was far from okay.

"Don't worry. Ed, listen to me. I'll find out what I can for you. As soon as I hear anything, 'll call you," Sophie offered.

"What about Clark? How's my boy?" Ed asked, fighting his emotions.

His son had been trapped in his car after an explosion at City Hall and had sustained a number of fractures. He, too, had been taken to Trinity General for treatment.

"He's in good spirits. They've taken him up for x-rays. I'll tell him what happened and that you'll be here as soon as you can," Sophie assured him.

"Thanks. Can I ask you a favour?" Ed asked.

"Anything."

"Dean is on his way to the hospital. He's got no one. He's going to need us," Ed started to explain, but he didn't have to go any further.

"Don't worry. I'll look after him," Sophie vowed.

"I'll come straight back once this is done," Ed promised. "I love you."

"I love you too."

To be continued...

**A/N - would love to know what you think. And apologies for any medical inaccuracies. I try but I do not have a medical background so all my medical jargon is from Google.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N - thanks to all who read and reviewed. Here's the next instalment. Hope you like it.**

**Chapter 2**

The ER in Trinity General was bustling, stretched to capacity with casualties from the bombings, that had rocked the city of Toronto, lining the corridors and every available space. Doctors, nurses, firemen, paramedics swarmed the hospital trying to help in whatever way they could. The walking wounded and distressed relatives hung around, waiting to be seen. As it stood, only those with potentially life-threatening injuries were being treated.

In Trauma Room 4 a team of doctors were battling to keep SRU Sergeant Gregory Parker alive long enough to get him into an OR. The problem was that all operating rooms were occupied and all surgical teams were working flat out to deal with the influx of injured. Doctors and nurses who were off were all called back as the hospital's major emergency plan kicked in. Many were still arriving.

Luckily for Greg, a thoracic surgeon called Dr. Liam Flynn had just reached the ER having seen the news reports of the explosions. He had been shepherded into Trauma Room 4 by the hospital emergency co-ordinator. He carried out a preliminary examination of his patient and it was obvious to him that the police officer wasn't going to make it if he didn't have immediate surgery. Greg was bleeding into his right lung and losing way too much blood. Dr. Flynn was told that all the ORs were occupied which left him with a big dilemma. He wasn't going to have time to wait for an OR if he was to save his patient so he decided that he would have to start the surgery in the inadequate surrounds of the trauma room. If an OR opened up in the meantime, they could transfer Greg once he was stable enough. With the decision made, there was another flurry of activity as surgical instruments and equipment were accumulated, gowns donned and the room was prepared as best they could.

Non-essential personnel were asked to leave and the surgeon scrubbed. His patient was going downhill fast. Blood products were being pushed into Parker, hoping to keep his heart beating for long enough to get through the surgery. His patient was stripped and prepared by the nursing staff and now lay there unconscious, waiting for the man who might save his life. With one deep cleansing breath, Dr. Flynn took the scalpel in his right hand and began the emergency surgery.

Outside the Trauma Room, unknown to Dr. Flynn, a limping female SRU officer and a teenage boy were frantically trying to find out about Sergeant Parker. Jules Callaghan, who herself had incurred a nasty gash to her leg while rescuing trapped children from a destroyed federal building, held Dean Parker's hand as she tried to get information. Hospital personnel were hurrying by, doing their best to cope with the influx of injured into their normally controlled environment, trying not to be distracted from their goal. Currently chaos ruled. In the end, Jules resorted to grabbing a nurse by her arm, physically stopping her. She decided to play the SRU card. The unimpressed young nurse turned back towards the reception desk and checked their admissions records. There was no record of Greg Parker on their admissions system yet, but as she explained, a lot of injured were being treated who hadn't been admitted as yet. As they grew more frustrated, the medic who had accompanied Greg and Ed in the truck recognised the SRU uniform that Jules was wearing and approached them.

"Are you looking for Sergeant Parker?" he asked.

"Yes, yes we are," Jules replied, grabbing his arm in desperation.

"He's in Trauma Room 4. They're working on him. That's all I know," the medic, Alex, told them.

"He's alive?" Dean asked, his watery eyes betraying his fear.

"He's holding on," Alex told the young man.

"Thank God," Dean said, doing his best to bite back the tears.

Jules put her arm around the shattered young man.

"He has to be okay. He just has to," Dean said, sounding utterly heartbroken.

"He will be," Jules told him, as though trying to convince herself also. "Come on, let's wait over here," she said, guiding him to a seating area closer to the trauma room doors.

She thanked the medic, who explained that he had to get back to the stadium and then she and Dean began the long wait. And they waited. Dean paced impatiently, sentry-like outside the doors where his father was being treated. Jules sank back into the chair and allowed the magnitude of what had happened sweep over her. It was, after all, her wedding day. She should be celebrating with her new husband and their families. Instead, she was here and her world, that seemed so perfect only hours ago, was in tatters.

Large tears trickled down her face as she thought about the little boy she had found on the sidewalk. The poor mite looked as though he was sleeping, but he was just one of the dozens of innocent victims of Marcus Faber. She thought about Donna and how the loss of her would affect the SRU family. Then she remembered how close she had come to losing her new husband, Sam, and how she felt when she heard the explosion over the radio and then the ensuing silence. It was the most terrifying few seconds of her life.

And now Greg, the boss she loved and adored, was fighting for his life. He was her mentor and had supported her through many things. He had put his career on the line by turning a blind eye to her and Sam's blossoming relationship. He was a sensitive and compassionate man who only wanted to see others happy. He just had to pull through, she thought, because life without Greg Parker was unimaginable.

"Jules?"

A voice called from further up the corridor. She looked up and saw Ed's wife scurrying towards her.

"Sophie!" Jules said and struggled to her feet. "You're here! How's Clark?"

Dean turned and smiled when he saw his best friend's mother approaching.

"He's going to be okay," she told them. "Ed called me and told me about your dad," she said, extending both her arms and wrapping them around Dean. "I'm so sorry. How is he doing?"

Jules caught her eye while Dean's back was to her and shook her head ominously. Sophie understood and realised exactly how high a price could be paid this day.

"They're working on him now," Jules told her, deliberately not revealing how bad things were for Dean's sake.

"I'll pray for him. Look, I really have to get back to Clark. Dean, if you want to come and sit with us while you wait for news, I'm sure Clark would like that," Sophie suggested.

"Thanks, Mrs. Lane, but I'd rather be here, you know, just in case," Dean said as bravely as he could.

"Of course, I understand," Sophie replied, giving his hand a squeeze. "Let me know as soon as you hear anything."

"We will," Jules said, giving her a brief hug. "Send Clark our love."

And with that Sophie left them and returned to her injured son. Dean and Jules were left in the bustling corridor of the hospital, waiting on information, praying for good news.

For Ed and Sam, the drive to the SIU interview was a relatively silent one. For Sam, it was the most unfortunate wedding day anyone could experience. As he drove, he pondered his future with his beautiful new wife. The thought of impending fatherhood frightened him. He saw what Ed had gone through today, knowing that his son was injured, knowing that no matter what he did to try and protect his child, there were times like today when it just wasn't possible. Life was full of uncertainties.

As Sam pondered, Ed was suffering, though his pain was not a physical pain. His heart felt like it was being ripped from his chest. He had unearthed his son from the rubble of a parking garage, fearing for some of that time that he had lost him. As he tried to deal with that, he got the news that he had lost Donna, his close friend and colleague. He felt sick, but kept going for his son. Thankfully Clark had been relatively lucky, escaping with a few fractures and his life. Then, a little over an hour later, Ed held the bleeding body of his best friend in his arms. It was one of the most terrifying moments of his life. He had never felt so helpless. Now he stared out of the car window at the grey buildings whizzing by and prayed that his friend would make it.

Much to Ed's relief, the preliminary procedure and SIU interview went relatively smoothly. Needless to say Ed's emotions were in turmoil. Why was he being cross-examined about shooting a man who had inflicted such death and destruction on the city? Surely they could see that he acted appropriately. The man had been pointing a weapon at the head of an SRU officer, his friend and colleague, an officer who had risked his life to defuse a dirty bomb and in the process had received life-threatening injuries.

Ed struggled to mask his anger and frustration throughout the whole interview process, but the SIU investigator was more than understanding. While trying to remain unaffected by the attack that had taken place against his city and do his job, the investigator couldn't help but admire the heroics of the SRU officer and his team. He certainly didn't want to put him through any more than he had already suffered. He had heard through the grape-vine that the officer's son had been injured in the City Hall bombing and knew that his sergeant was undergoing surgery. So he asked the mandatory questions and wrapped it up as quickly as he could, knowing the officer had somewhere more important to be.

Ed was relieved when it was all done. He hurried to the locker room and quickly changed, bagging his uniform for SIU. As he exited the locker room, his team members were waiting for him. Sam, Spike and Leah looked exhausted. They had been through the mill the last few hours. Spike was chatting to Winnie. Sam and Leah discussed the death of Donna and Stevens, another SRU officer who had been in the building with her when it exploded.

They stopped when Ed approached them.

"How did it go?" Sam asked.

"It went," Ed replied as though it was of no importance. Right now, to him, it wasn't.

"We're heading to the hospital," Spike told him. "Any word?"

"Sophie called. There's no news," Ed replied, putting his hand on Spike's shoulder. Together the team mates walked to the elevator.

Meanwhile, at the hospital, Jules and Dean were still none the wiser regarding Greg's condition. There was lots of activity around the trauma room, but no one to give them any details. It was so frustrating. Dean's cell phone rang. He checked the caller ID. It was his dad's girlfriend, Marina. He realised that he should have called her. In all the panic, he had forgotten. He answered the phone quickly.

"Hey."

"Oh, hi, Dean. I've been trying to reach your dad. I know he's probably really busy today after what's happened, but his cell is ringing out. I was just wondering if you've heard from him?" she asked, trying not to sound overly concerned. "He usually calls me back and I haven't heard from him yet."

Dean hesitated, unsure of the best way to break the news. There was no easy way to say it, so he just said it.

"Marina, my dad's been shot," Dean said, choking on the words.

"What? Oh, my God!" she exclaimed. "Is he okay? Where is he?"

"We're at Trinity General," Dean told her. "He's in surgery. Eh, I don't know. We haven't been able to find out very much."

"I'll be there as soon as I can," Marina told him. "I'm stuck on the freeway. The traffic has backed up. It could be a while. Are you okay? Of course you're not. What can I do? Poor Greg, I can't believe it."

"I'm fine. Jules is here," Dean told her.

"Good. That's good. Please, will you call me if there's any news?"

"Of course," Dean replied. "See you when you get here."

Inside the trauma room cum operating room, the surgeon was battling hard to keep Sergeant Parker alive. The bullet had shattered a rib on entry causing the bone to fragment. Dr. Flynn had removed the bullet and carried out the repair on his lung, but Greg's BP was still unstable, a sign that there was more bleeding. The doctor struggled to find where the bleeding was. He suspected that either the bullet or a fragment had nicked his patient's liver or possibly the rental artery. He didn't want to have to carry out a more complicated surgery without the proper OR equipment. He asked the nurse to call upstairs and find out when then next OR would be available.

"There'll be a slot in ten minutes, Doctor," she told him.

"Right, let's prepare to move him," the doctor ordered his team.

He packed the wound and covered the incision then stripped off his surgical gown and gloves.

"Are his family outside?" he asked the same nurse.

She told him that they were. He cleaned himself off and headed out to explain to them what was going on.

When Jules saw the doctor emerge from the trauma room and approach them, she stood up nervously and tried to read his expression. Her awkward movement attracted Dean's attention and he stopped pacing, swallowed hard and braced himself for what the doctor was about to tell them.

"Family of Greg Parker?"

"Yes," Jules replied immediately.

"I'm Dr. Flynn. I've been treating him. We've removed the bullet from his lung, but he's still bleeding internally. An OR has opened up so we've decided that it's best to move him to more conducive surroundings before we carry out further exploratory surgery," the doctor explained.

"Is he going to be okay?" Dean asked. It was the only thing he wanted to know.

"At this stage, it's too early to tell. He's suffering from hypovolemic shock and we've struggled to stabilise him. We're transfusing blood and blood products to replace what was lost and hope he'll stabilise sooner rather than later. Look, I'm sorry. I have to go, but if you wish, you can wait in the family area outside the OR suite and I'll keep you updated," Dr. Flynn suggested.

"Okay, that would be good. Thank you," Jules said, moving closer to Dean and taking his hand, a gesture to remind him that he wasn't alone.

The young man felt totally deflated. He didn't know what to do. He had wanted the doctor to come out and tell him his dad was going to be fine. But the doctor had told him nothing to give him any consolation. He wanted a miracle. He needed a miracle.

To be continued...

**_A/N - again all errors are mine alone. Hope its not too depressing._**


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N - hope you all have a lovely New Year (even if it is without Flashpoint) :-( **_

_**Just have to continue with this story then!**_

Chapter 3

Ed, Sam, Spike and Leah drove back across town towards Trinity General, avoiding the traffic snarl-ups on the way. Finally, they arrived at the hospital. They searched fruitlessly in the crowded ER for Jules and Dean before eventually managing to get information that Greg had been transferred to an operating room on the third floor. They hurried upstairs and found Dean and Jules in the waiting area, looking stressed. Dean sat hunched over, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands joined in front of him as if in prayer. Jules rested back against the back of her seat, trying to block out the throbbing from her leg wound.

She offered her team mates a weak smile in acknowledgement of their arrival. Her new husband came over and kissed and hugged her before enquiring after their boss.

"I don't know, Sam. The doc said they'd removed the bullet, but there was something about internal bleeding that was giving him concern. He said he'd lost a lot of blood and they were trying to replace that. They're still operating. That's all I know," she told them.

Ed sat down wearily beside Dean.

"How are you doing, son?" he asked the pensive young man.

"All right, I guess," Dean replied putting on a brave front.

"He's going to be fine," Ed told him. "This is your dad we're talking about. He's a lot stronger than he looks."

Dean nodded, still staring at the ground, trying not to cry again. He was struggling with the thought of losing his dad. He felt as though he was only starting to get to know him properly having being apart for so long. Why did this have to happen now, he wondered.

Ed stayed for a short while with his team before eventually excusing himself. He had to go and see his son which was perfectly understandable considering what he had been through. Nobody could blame him for leaving.

The rest of the team waited with Dean. The SRU family supported their own and right now Dean needed them. As he sat there feeling scared, his cell phone rang.

"Mom?" he said in surprise as he answered.

"Dean, thank God you're all right. I was watching the news and saw the reports of the explosions up there. Why didn't you call me? I was worried sick," she told him.

"I was…..I never…," he started to stammer.

"What's wrong, Dean? You _are_ okay, aren't you? Is it your dad?" she asked, sensing his nervousness.

"I'm fine, Mom, but Dad's not. He's been shot," Dean told her. "The bomber…..Dad defused a bomb, but the bomber shot him. It looks bad, Mom."

"Oh my God, I can't believe it," she replied. "I'll come up there. I'll try and get a flight. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"No, Mom, there's no need. Not yet anyway," Dean told her. "Ed and Sophie are here and the team. I'm not alone. You don't have to come all the way. Just wait until we see how things are."

"I don't know, Dean. I hate to think of you going through this without me there," his mother told him.

"I know, Mom, but I'm not alone. If I need you, I'll call you," Dean promised.

They chatted some more and as every mother would, she tried to console her son. Eventually, much to Dean's relief, the call ended.

All the while, Sam was growing concerned for his pregnant wife. She insisted that she wanted to wait and see how their boss was, but it was obvious that her leg injury was causing her some discomfort. Sam tried to convince her to get it properly treated. She was reluctant, but then he reminded her that she was pregnant and that if she caught an infection from the wound it could cause serious problems for both her and their baby. That brought her to her senses and Sam took her back down to the ER to be seen by a doctor.

Spike, Leah and Dean maintained the vigil in the waiting room outside the OR.

Sophie had sent Ed a text with Clark's room number on it so he had no trouble finding them. There were four beds in the room, all occupied. The hospital was operating at capacity because of the attacks. Clark was sitting up and looking much better than when his dad had last seen him. His wrist was in plaster. He was propped up by pillows and was chatting to his mom. Then he saw his dad standing in the doorway.

"Dad!" he called, gesturing for him to come over with his uninjured arm.

Ed smiled and walked over to his bed.

"Mom told me about Greg. How is he?" Clark asked.

"He's still in surgery. They told Jules that there's internal bleeding. He'll be okay though," Ed assured him, not sounding all that convinced.

"He will, you know," Clark replied as his father hugged him.

"So, how are you feeling?" Ed asked his son, as he leaned over and kissed his wife.

"Good considering," Clark replied as vaguely as most teenagers would.

"They need to put a pin in his leg, but they probably won't have an OR free until tomorrow," Sophie told him. "He has a clean break on his wrist and has three rib fractures on the right side of his chest so he'll have to be quiet for a while and rest for a while."

"You didn't half scare me to death you know," Ed told him, sitting onto the bed beside him. "I thought I'd lost you, son," Ed said, resting his arm around Clark's neck.

" Dad! I'm fine," Clark said, a little embarrassed by his dad's sentimentality.

Then he noticed the tears forming in his dad's eyes. He had rarely ever seen his dad display his emotions so openly. He started to realise the toll that this nightmare of a day had taken on his father. He laid his head into the crook of his father's arm.

"I really am okay, Dad," he said. "And Greg will be too. We can't let that guy beat us," he said, referring to the bomber. "You got him, didn't you?"

"Yeah, we got him," Ed replied with a nod of his head. "I shouldn't have let Greg go up there alone."

"You can't be everywhere, Ed. You're only human. Greg knew what he was doing," Sophie was quick to remind him.

Ed nodded, straight-lipped and drew his son to his body once more.

Hours passed.

Jules' leg had been cleaned up and stitched and she and Sam had come back up to the waiting area. Leah had gone out and brought coffees for everyone. They sat in silence, lost in thought, waiting for news. They never even noticed the surgeon approaching until he was standing in front of them. Dean jumped to his feet. Slowly the team stood, each fearing what they would hear.

"He gave us a few scares in there, but he's in recovery now. We'll move him to ICU shortly where we can monitor him closely," Dr. Flynn told them.

The room heaved a collective sigh of relief. Dean smiled broadly and hugged Jules who was now standing at his side. The rest of the team celebrated, sharing hugs and cheers.

"He's not out of the woods yet," the doctor was at pains to point out. "We're keeping him intubated to give him a chance to heal. He will require further surgery on his leg, but we'd rather wait until he's strong enough."

"Can we see him?" Dean asked eagerly.

"Not right now. I'll send someone to get you when he's been settled in and then only one or two at most. As you can imagine, the ICU is very busy today. We have two and three patients in a room so space is a luxury," he told him.

"I understand. Thank you, Doctor," Dean said, shaking his hand.

The doctor walked away as the team continued to rejoice.

"I knew he was going to be okay," Sam said, turning to his wife.

"No, you didn't. You were just as scared as I was," Jules reminded him.

"We should let Ed know," Spike said, taking out his cell phone.

He called Ed and explained the situation. Needless to say, Ed was delighted with the news. It wasn't long before he rejoined his team in the waiting room.

"How's Clark?" Sam asked.

"Good, thanks. He needs an operation on his leg, but he got lucky. A few broken ribs and a busted wrist is all," Ed informed them.

A nurse returned to the waiting area a short time later and told them that two of them could follow her to the ICU. There was no question among them that the two would be Dean and Ed. They entered the sliding doors of the ICU suite. A nurse's station was in a central position on the floor and the rooms radiated from that central area. She guided them to ICU Room 6. Inside were two beds, one on the right and the other on the left of the room. Initially, Dean couldn't tell which of the men was his father because their faces were obscured by the ventilator tubing. The nurse led them to one of the beds. When he saw him, he was shocked. The man in the bed looked so different from the man who had left their apartment this morning.

He seemed smaller beneath the tangle of tubes and wires. A pale blue sheet covered his lower torso up to the bottom of his ribs. His chest was bare and shockingly bruised. A large white gauze bandage was visible on his right side where they had obviously opened him up. His eyes were sunken and his face was grey. Dean wiped away a tear as it traced down his face.

He approached his father slowly. He stood at his bedside nervously, almost afraid to touch him. He then reached out and placed both his hands on his father's bare arm.

"I'm here, Dad," he said, glancing at Ed for encouragement.

Ed gave an approving nod, to urge him to speak to Greg.

"The whole team is outside. You have to get better, Dad. We need you," Dean told him.

Ed walked around to the other side of the bed. He heart was breaking seeing his friend so ill. He took Greg's hand in his own.

"You made it, Buddy," he said, giving his hand a light squeeze. "The doc said that you just need to rest up and you'll be as right as rain."

He had only said it when the nurse returned and interrupted him.

"Excuse me," she said to Ed. "There's a blonde lady outside. She says she's Mr. Parker's partner."

"That's Marina," Dean said. "She called earlier."

"Okay, well I'll leave and she can come in," Ed volunteered, releasing Greg's hand.

Ed followed the nurse back out and he greeted Marina at the door of the ICU.

"Oh, my God, Ed," Marina said, in an obviously emotional state. "How bad is it?"

"He's critical, Marina," Ed told her. "He was shot in the chest and leg. There was a lot on internal damage, but they've stabilised him. It's going to be a long road for him whatever happens."

Marina hugged Ed, knowing how close the two men are and knowing how upset he must be.

"Dean's with him," Ed told her. "You can go on in."

She didn't need to be told twice. There were emotional scenes when she saw Greg and Dean. She and Dean hugged and consoled each other for a while. Then she took up position at the head of his bed. Seeing him lying there made it all very real; the bleeps of the cardiac monitor, the rise and fall of his chest with each artificial breath, the antiseptic smell that wafted through the air.

She had always feared that someday she would get a call telling her that he had been hurt. It was something they had never discussed in depth. He liked to leave the job at the office and rarely brought it home. But you could always tell if he'd had a bad day. He would be quiet, withdrawn and sometimes emotional. And if he felt like talking, he would, and if he didn't, she would never push it. However, the reality of the danger of his job was always to the fore of her mind. Sometimes she wondered if it was part of the attraction. He was such a good man and he had made her so happy. She didn't want to lose him.

As Ed was returning to the waiting room, a hospital administrator carrying a clipboard accosted him.

"Excuse me, sir. Are you Edward Lane?" she asked.

"Yes, that's me," he replied.

"I need you to sign some papers," she told him.

"Papers? What sort of papers?"

"The SRU personnel department sent over Mr. Parker's medical records and you are named as his medical proxy," she informed him.

"What?"

"His medical proxy," she repeated. "I just need to make you aware of his DNR instructions."

"DNR? What are you talking about?"

"Mr. Parker has left specific instructions he wishes to be carried out should he be permanently incapacitated or left in a vegetative state. If it comes to it, you may have to make some difficult decisions," she told Ed.

"I don't know. I mean, he's going to wake up, right?" Ed asked, getting a little distressed by the discussion.

"Of course, we hope so. But you never can tell what will happen and your friend had the foresight to leave instructions to make it easier on you and his family. It's my job to ensure that you are aware of these," she told him. "Why don't we sit and I can explain everything."

She led him to a tiny office and offered him some water, which he accepted. She was very sensitive in the way in which she explained Greg's wishes. Ed sat there listening in disbelief. He couldn't fathom the fact that they were actually having that conversation. Greg didn't want to linger in any way should he receive injuries that resulted in brain death. He did not want to be on life support for more than one week. His DNR instructions were that if there was no real chance of recovery that no heroic measures were to be taken. Ed heard the words, but wasn't sure that they were sinking in. It was all too surreal.

He returned to the waiting room in a daze, having been fully informed. He told the waiting team how their boss was and that Dean and Marina were sitting with him. He touched on the fact that he had discovered that he was named as his medical proxy, a position that scared him. He advised them that they should all go home and get some rest and promised to keep them updated on Greg's condition.

Sam and Jules called their parents and arranged to meet them back at their apartment. They had cancelled the wedding celebration that had been scheduled to take place that evening. They would just spend the evening with their immediate family instead.

Leah headed home and Spike wasn't sure where he wanted to go. He was being consumed by a guilt that kept nagging him. First, he had always blamed himself for Lew's death, and now this. He decided to go to a bar to try and forget the day. He consumed several drinks in quick succession. Then, strengthened by Dutch courage, he called Winnie. She recognised immediately that he was drunk from his unusual demeanour and slurred words and she was greatly concerned for the SRU officer.

"It's all my fault, you know," he slurred into the phone.

"What are you talking about, Spike?" Winnie asked.

"I should've been up there. I'm the bomb tech. The boss shouldn't have been there. It shoulda been me. He shouldn't…..it shoulda been me," he rambled.

"Spike, where are you?" Winnie asked, getting more worried.

"A bar."

"I gathered that. Which bar?"

"Em, Sullivan's," he replied.

"On Eglinton? Stay there. I'm coming to get you," she told him.

"Yeah, you should come over and I'll buy you a drink," he said generously.

"Sure, Spike. Whatever? Just stay there."

When Winnie got there, Spike was on a bar stool propping up the bar. It was a quiet night in the bar, most people staying home after the bombings earlier that day. She walked up to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Winnie!" he said with delight. "You came. Wow, you are so beautiful, you know that."

"Spike, why don't you let me take you home?" she suggested, ignoring his comments. She couldn't help but notice how exhausted he looked.

"No, let's have a drink. Bar-keep!" he called, getting the bar-tender's attention.

"No, thanks, Spike. Come on, this isn't like you. Just come with me, please," she said, taking him by the hand.

"Okay then. Anything for you," Spike said, taking out a wad of notes and throwing them on the bar.

Winnie wasn't sure whether to drop Spike home to his own place to take him to hers. She decided that he shouldn't be alone so without asking, just drove to her place.

"I don't live here," Spike said, staggering out of her car.

"I know you don't. I do," Winnie said, locking the car. "Come on. I'll make us some coffee."

Spike followed Winnie to her apartment and literally fell onto her sofa. Winnie went to her kitchen and put on the coffee machine before returning to the living room and sitting down beside Spike.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" she said to him crossly.

"H'uh?" Spike wasn't sure what she was talking about.

"What happened to the boss is not your fault," she told him.

"You don't know that," he said. "I'm the bomb guy. The boss should never have been anywhere that bomb."

"No, he shouldn't. But then again, nobody should. He shouldn't have been exposed to radioactive material either, Spike, but he was. Donna shouldn't have died, but she did. Spike, you did your job. You couldn't be in two places at once. The sarge knew that. He was there and he did what had to be done," she told him. "I might not have been there, but I was listening to everything, remember? I know exactly what happened. You talked the whole team through the diffusion of several bombs, not to mention the devices you disarmed yourself. You're only one person, Spike. I was so scared for the team, for you. What you did was amazing. What the boss did was amazing."

Spike looked at her and she met his gaze. He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol in his system, but he was sure they were sharing a moment. It was difficult but he resisted the urge to kiss her. In his drunken state he suspected that he'd get a slap on the face for his troubles. To his surprise, she leaned towards him and kissed him on the lips. He barely reacted because he wasn't sure if it was really happening. She sat back afterwards and he just looked at her, speechless.

"How about that coffee now?" she said, standing up as if nothing had happened and leaving him in a trance-like state.

But Spike didn't last long enough for the coffee. When Winnie returned with two steaming mugs of coffee, he was already asleep on the sofa. She took off his boots, got a blanket from the linen press and put it over him. She kissed him softly on the cheek before turning in for the night.

To be continued...


	4. Chapter 4

**_A/N - I really appreciate all of you getting in touch and reviewing. I hope the pace of the story isn't too slow for you. Here's the next chapter. See what you think._**

Chapter 4

The hospital lights dimmed and that first night seemed to go on forever. Ed had sent a reluctant Sophie home to their young daughter, Izzy, who was missing her mom. Ed insisted on staying with Clark, not wanting to leave him alone after what he had been through. Dean and Marina remained in the ICU by Greg's side all night, only leaving briefly to stretch their legs or get some coffee. It turned out to be a relatively uneventful night in the ICU. Nurses checked on him every hour and Greg remained stable throughout. Downstairs, Clark spent a comfortable night, even if Ed didn't.

The morning was heralded by the lights being brightened and an increase in activity on the floor. Janitors, domestic staff, day nurses all arrived for the start of their shifts. Dr. Flynn came around early to check on his patients, including Greg. He greeted an exhausted Marina and Dean before carrying out a basic examination. They watched as his warm expression changed to concern and he quizzed the duty nurse about Greg's cardiac readings throughout the night. He seemed unhappy about something, Dean noticed, and he became instantly concerned.

"Is everything okay?" Dean asked.

"I'm not sure," the doctor replied. "Your father's cardiac output is concerning me. Janet, I'd like an ECG and ultrasound as soon as possible," he said to the nurse.

The nurse exited the room and the doctor continued to listen to Greg's heart and lungs.

"What are you looking for?" Marina asked, suspecting that that doctor had an idea about what was going on.

"I can't be sure without an ultrasound, but his readings are showing an increased heart rate for the last hour or two. And his heart sounds are muffled. I suspect there may be fluid around his heart," Dr. Flynn replied.

"Oh, no, that sounds serious," Marina said with concern.

"If left untreated it can be," he told her. "It is likely that he'll need a procedure called pericardiocentesis. I'd like to get that done straight away. I see that a Mr. Lane is his medical proxy. Can you contact him?"

"Sure. He's here in the hospital. His son was among the injured yesterday," Dean told him.

"Can you get him? I need to talk to him sooner rather than later," the doctor asked.

"I'll go," Dean said, glancing at his critically ill father once more before leaving the room.

Dean took the elevator two floors down to the second floor and found Clark's room. He found Clark still sleeping and Ed dozing, sitting on a chair with his head resting on his son's bed. He walked in and gave Ed a gentle shake to rouse him.

"Ed!"

"Huh?" Ed said, sitting up suddenly, momentarily disorientated. "Dean? What….? Is it you father?"

"There's something wrong. They have to do something with his heart. The doctor needs to talk to you," Dean told him.

Ed stood up and left the room with Dean by his side. He began to feel a little panicked, sensing urgency from Dean and broke into a jog down the corridor. As he waited impatiently for the elevator, Dean tried to reassure him.

"There's a procedure they can do the doctor said. I'm not sure how serious, but so far Dad seems okay….considering," he told the worried officer.

Ed allowed himself to breathe a little easier as he stepped into the elevator. When they got to the ICU, Marina was standing outside and the doctor had the curtain pulled around Greg's bed.

"What's going on?" Ed asked, worry etched on his face.

"They're doing an ultrasound on his heart. They think there's a problem," she said, sounding unsure.

They waited with baited breath until the doctor and nurse emerged from the curtained off area.

"So, Doc? What's happening?" Ed asked immediately.

"As I suspected, there is fluid accumulated in the pericardial sac. The pressure is restricting Greg's heart from beating properly," he told him.

"I don't understand. How did this happen?" Marina asked.

"It was more than likely as a result of the blunt force trauma from the round he took to his ballistics vest, but we won't know for sure until we test the fluid. I'll carry out a procedure to remove the fluid and he should improve almost immediately," Dr. Flynn told them. "Mr. Lane, we'll need your signature."

"Yeah, sure. But he'll be all right then?" Ed asked, feeling a little uncomfortable making decisions for his friend regarding matters that he knew little about.

"I expect so," the doctor replied. "He'll be closely monitored, but I would be very hopeful."

"Okay then," Ed said, taking the clipboard from the doctor, signing the authorisation and handing it back to him. "Do whatever you have to."

The doctor thanked him and asked them all to wait in the waiting room while they carried out the procedure. Ed put his arm around Dean's shoulder and together they walked out of the ICU, more tense waiting in store for them.

Meanwhile, Jules and Sam woke up from what should have been their wedding night. Instead of romance and champagne, they spent the night twisting and turning, unable to get any restful sleep. Jules was suffering, her leg making it difficult to get comfortable. The hospital had given her painkillers to take, but she was reluctant to take them because of her pregnancy. Sam had tried to sleep, but ended up getting up at 4am and turning on the TV. The events of the previous day had taken their toll on him too. His back was stiff and sore, probably from being caught in the blast, he assumed. He drank a cold beer, ate some chips and tried to relax while watching re-runs of Stargate SG-1.

By 7am, he was showered, dressed and cooking breakfast for his new wife. He took a flower from her wedding bouquet, which she had left in their living room, and put it on the tray.

"Good morning, Mrs. Braddock," he said with a broad smile.

"Good morning yourself," Jules said, sitting up, mindful of her injured leg. The stitches were pulling and the wound was itching like mad.

"How are you feeling this morning?" Sam asked, placing the tray across her thighs and kissing her on the lips.

"Mmmm," she said, savouring his kiss. "I'm good," she replied. "We're good," she said, placing her hand on her tiny baby bump. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Not really. You?"

"Nope. Any word from the hospital?" Jules asked.

"Not so far. I'll call Ed after breakfast," Sam replied, sitting back on his side of the bed.

"I can't get my head around what happened yesterday," Jules said, spreading some butter on her toast.

"Me neither, Jules. When I saw the boss lying on that gangway, all that blood, I panicked. I was sure we were going to lose him," Sam admitted. "I couldn't get the image out of my head all night."

"I can only imagine," Jules said, placing her hand on his leg. "But he made it and he won't give up. Not the boss. He's going to be okay, I just know he is."

"Me too," Sam said, his hand finding hers.

Meanwhile, at Winnie's apartment, Spike woke to the sound of plates clinking and bacon sizzling. He was completely disorientated when he opened his eyes, a lot of the previous night a blur. He sat up on the sofa and cradled his throbbing head in his hands. He rubbed his eyes to try and clear the cobwebs from his brain. When Winnie sauntered out of her kitchen Spike's eyes widened in disbelief. It was starting to come back to him.

"Good morning, Sleepyhead," Winnie said, sounding chirpy.

"Morning," Spike replied sheepishly.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him.

"Lousy," Spike replied, feeling a little embarrassed.

"Serves you right," Winnie said, having no pity for him. "What the hell were you thinking last night, Spike? If the Sarge knew what you did, he'd be really disappointed. All you had to do was call if you needed someone to talk to."

"I know. I don't know what I was thinking," he admitted. "I guess I wasn't thinking."

"No, you weren't," she said. "Here. Bathroom's that way," she said, throwing him a towel.

"Thanks," Spike said, catching it. "Are you on duty?" he asked her, noticing that she was in uniform.

"Yeah. I'm due in at 8am," she told him.

"Crap, so am I," Spike said, getting panicked.

"You don't have to worry. Team One has been stood down temporarily after what happened yesterday," Winnie told him. "You should have a message on your phone."

Spike searched for his cell phone, finding it in his trouser pocket.

"Is there any news from the hospital?" Spike asked, checking through his messages.

"No, but I suppose no news is good news," Winnie replied.

"I guess so," Spike agreed. "Listen, Winnie, I just wanted to say thanks, you know, for everything."

"What are friends for, right? I was going to swing by the hospital before I head in to work if you want a ride," Winnie told him.

"Yeah, that would be good, but I'd better have that shower first. And coffee, lots of coffee," Spike said, taking the towel and as he brushed past Winnie, reaching briefly for her hand.

She allowed her hand to glance off his and gave him a shy smile as he continued towards the bathroom in his usual unassuming fashion.

While waiting in the family room outside ICU, Ed took the time to call a few people. His first call was a brief call to his wife. He reassured her that their son was fine and told her about what had been happening with Greg. Then he called Jules and Sam and updated them on Greg's condition. Naturally, Jules was beside herself with worry when she heard about the problems with the boss's heart. She told Ed that she intended to be there later that morning.

He then called Leah and eventually Spike. He hadn't long finished his call to Spike when the doctor came and found them. Ed stood up expectantly.

"It's done and he remained stable throughout," Dr. Flynn told them.

"Is that it? I mean, can it happen again?" Dean asked.

"Yes, it can happen, but it's unlikely. We'll keep a close eye," the doctor told him.

"Can we go back in?" Marina asked, anxious to get back to him.

Then Ed chimed in.

"Marina, why don't you and Dean go home and get a couple of hours sleep? I can stay with him. Sophie is coming back in to sit with Clark so I can stay. I'd like to," Ed told her.

"I don't know. I'd like to be here in case there was any change," Marina said, anxiously.

"Me too," Dean piped up.

"I understand, but he's sedated. He's not going to wake up until the doctor decides to let him. He'll need you more when that time comes," Ed told them. "He's going to need your strength and if you're exhausted or ill, you'll be in no shape to be there for him," he tried to explain.

Dean looked at Marina. He didn't like the idea of leaving his dad, but there was no denying how tired he was.

"I guess you're right," he replied. "Marina, could you give me a ride home?"

"Sure," Marina replied. "If you're sure, Ed?" Marina said, turning towards Ed.

"Absolutely," Ed replied. "Go, get some rest."

He hugged Marina and shook Dean's hand and promised to call them if anything changed. They both insisted on saying goodbye to Greg before leaving.

After they left, Ed entered the ICU and looked at his gravely injured friend. It had been the first time they had been alone since that harrowing time on the stadium gangway. He flashed back to when he shot Faber, seeing the bomber go down and then the sight of Greg lying on the ground beyond him, his terrified eyes pleading for help. He recalled the feeling of dread that had washed over him when he realised how severely injured his friend was; the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as Greg weakened in his arms.

He snapped back to reality, listened to the beeping of the cardiac monitor and relaxed into a chair positioned at the head of the bed. Greg still looked deathly pale, but Ed found solace in the fact that at least he had made it this far. The steady hissing of the ventilator replaced the rasping breaths that Greg was struggling to take back in the stadium, a sound that would remain with Ed forever.

He sat and talked to Greg as though his friend could hear him, silly little one-way conversations about family, about work, about what they would do when he got better. It made Ed feel better even if there was no response from Greg.

Throughout the day, there were several visitors to Greg in the hospital, but only family were allowed into ICU. Winnie and Spike were two of the first visitors that morning. Ed met and talked to his team mates in the visitors area outside the ICU when they arrived at intervals throughout the day. He gave them updates on his condition and they brought news of what had been happening city wide since the bomb attacks.

Marina and Dean returned in the late afternoon having slept a little, showered and eaten a little. They felt refreshed and ready to face the next hurdle.

Ed returned to Clark and Sophie. They informed him that Clark's surgery was scheduled for that evening and he was told that Clark could go home the following day if everything went well. Ed tried to react as everyone expected, but he was exhausted. He hadn't slept and had barely eaten anything since Sam and Jules' wedding. He was trying to be a tower of strength for his family, for Greg's family and for his team.

But Sophie could see what was happening to her husband. She was getting worried about him.

"Ed, when did you last eat?" she asked, suspecting it was some time.

Ed considered the question for a moment and then shrugged.

"And I expect you didn't get much sleep last night either," she said perceptively.

Ed sighed.

"Look, I know you want to be here and save everyone but I'm ordering you home to get some rest," Sophie told him. "Clark will be home in a day or two and I'm going to need you to help out. I can't have you collapsing from exhaustion when I need you the most."

"I'm fine, Soph," Ed insisted.

"Does he look fine to you, Clark?" Sophie asked her son, turning the tables on Ed.

"Mom has a point, Dad. I've never seen such bags under one person's eyes before. I'll be fine here. They'll come and take me too surgery in a couple of hours and then I'll be sleeping for ages. Anyway, there are plenty of nice nurses to keep me company if I get lonely," Clark joked.

Sophie threw a surprised glance at him. Ed just smiled.

"Okay, seeing as though you're all ganging up on me, I guess I don't have a choice," Ed said, with a wry smile. "Just a few hours mind you."

He kissed his family and slipped away. As he was leaving, he met Jules and Sam arriving at the ER entrance.

"Hey, how's the leg," he asked Jules.

"I'll live," Jules replied. "Are you leaving?"

"I've been ordered to get some rest," Ed said, throwing his eyes to the heavens.

"Well, you look like you could do with some," Sam commented.

"Thanks," Ed said, feigning insult. "You don't look so hot yourself."

They joked and cajoled a bit and then Ed left, allowing Jules and Sam to make their way to the ICU. Dean came out when he heard that they were there and told Jules to go in and see his dad. Jules was delighted to be allowed in to see him, but was a little taken aback when she was him lying there.

She realised that she had never seen her boss so defenceless. He was shockingly still. Marina stood and greeted her as she entered.

"Hey," she said, giving Jules a hug. "Come closer. Talk to him."

Jules did as she suggested and she came close enough to take his hand. She placed his hand on her baby bump and her eyes filled with tears.

"You can't miss out on this little one's arrival, Sarge. We need you to get better," Jules said softly. "We need you, Boss."

After a short silence, she asked Marina;

"Has there been any change?"

"The doctor said his heart function has improved and his blood pressure is stable. He said they'll consider taking him off the ventilator tomorrow and maybe hold off the sedation after that," Marina told her. "God, all I want right now is to see those brown eyes."

Jules smiled.

"He has great eyes, doesn't he?" she commented. "You know exactly where you stand with one glance. You're a lucky woman, Marina"

"I know I am. Things have been going so well for us lately. We've been so happy, I was beginning to think we had a chance of a real future," she admitted.

"You can still have a future," Jules told her.

"I know. It's just when something of this magnitude happens, it shakes people's faith. I guess right now, my faith is wavering," she explained.

"Well don't you let it," Jules insisted. "This is a just bump in the road and as they say, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. You'll get through this. We all will."

Maybe "kill you" wasn't the best phrase to use, Jules thought, but hoped the sentiment rang true.

**_To be continued..._**


	5. Chapter 5

**_A/N - I'm chuffed that so many of you are reading this and getting in touch. And sorry if I haven't gotten around to replying individually to all you who reviewed but be assured that I really do appreciate your comments. _**

Chapter 5

An exhausted Ed arrived home, threw is keys on the hall table and entered his kitchen. He stood with his hands on the counter top, alone for the first time since the fateful hot call. He took a deep breath which ended as a yawn and stared out his kitchen window into his back garden. Everything looked exactly the same, he reflected, like nothing had happened. But a lot had happened.

It was then that he allowed the veil of composure, that he had been maintaining, to fall and he allowed the tears to flow. It was his first real opportunity to mourn Donna, only now facing the reality of never seeing her again. He sobbed as he remembered the good times they had shared, their harmless flirting and joking around. She was a good friend and he was really going to miss having her around.

It took a little time, but he pulled himself together, dragged himself upstairs and literally fell into bed. He was so exhausted that he barely had the strength to remove his boots before an overwhelming urge to sleep took over. He didn't bother to undress, just lay on his back, appreciating the comfort of his mattress. Closing his eyes, he soon drifted off.

When he woke, it was with a start. He had been dreaming and woke feeling confused. It took a few seconds to realise where he was. The room was dark even though he hadn't drawn the blinds and he had no idea what time it was. He checked his cell phone. It was the early hours of the morning. Jules had sent a text a couple of hours earlier to say that she was leaving the hospital and that Greg was stable. He hadn't even heard the phone. He lay back down and tried to go back to sleep, but he was restless. There was a growling in his stomach and he realised just how hungry he was.

Knowing that he wouldn't sleep any longer, he decided to get up and take a shower first before eating. As he stood in the shower, appreciating the warmth of the jets, his mind began to wander. He touched the scars on his left arm and forearm courtesy of bullet wounds he received as he drove to see his daughter being born last year. The wounds had healed, but the physical and mental scars would never fade. He recalled having to undergo complex surgery and months of physiotherapy before being declared fit for duty. It had been a painful and frustrating battle for him and the one person he confided in through it all was his best friend, Greg Parker.

No matter how much he tried to stay positive, Ed suspected Greg's career in SRU was over. No-one was ever the same after suffering such serious injuries, but right now none of that mattered, he reminded himself. Right now, he would just be happy to talk to his friend again. He turned the water temperature control to cold which woke him up in an instant. He didn't linger under the cold water for long, turned the shower off and stepped out.

Once dried and dressed, he went downstairs and into the kitchen. He opened the fridge door and stared in as if looking for inspiration. Nothing jumped out at him, so he rummaged through the contents and decided on some cold meats, cheese and butter. He made a couple of sandwiches and washed them down with some milky coffee. He looked at his watch. It was almost 4am, too early to go to the hospital. He was tempted to go for a jog to straighten his head out, but Sophie's words about rest resonated in his head so he decided to chill out.

He strolled into the living room and switched on the TV. To his surprise, a picture of Greg in uniform was on the screen. Ed turned the volume up and sat down. It was the local 24 hour news channel. Not unexpectedly as it was one of the biggest terrorist attacks on the city, they were still running stories about the bombings, obviously trying to find new angles to keep the story fresh as long as possible. The picture of Greg disappeared and they were now showing a video of him pleading for calm. Ed hadn't seen the news reports on the day of the bombing and sat transfixed as the station replayed Greg's address to the city;

"The best way to stay safe is to look out after each other," Greg had said so calmly.

"Today is the kind of day that we will all look back at years from now and remember exactly where we were…"

Tears welled in Ed's eyes as he listened to Greg's profound words.

"Today's the day that we did not let fear break us down….."

The first tear traced down his cheek.

"This was the day we took care of each other…."

By the time the excerpt ended and the news announcer came back on, Ed was a blubbering mess.

"Sergeant Greg Parker remains in a critical condition in hospital tonight," she told the viewers in conclusion to the segment.

The news report continued to explore details of that ill-fated day. Another picture flashed up on the screen as the station chose to delve into the mind of the bomber. Marcus Faber, the man Ed had shot and killed, stared out at him. Ed sniffled and dried his tears and watched. Until now, Ed hadn't given him much thought. He had put him down and did his job. As far as he was concerned, he was merely a lunatic who wreaked death and destruction on his city, but he listened to the news report. They portrayed him as a well-respected young man who came from a good family. They described his family's torment from the time they realised there was something wrong and how their son had distanced himself from them over the last few months. Slowly Ed began to see beyond the villain he had imagined and realise that he was a very ill young man who had lashed out at a society he considered to have harmed him. Nothing justified his actions, but it did help Ed understand a little.

Information at the bottom of the screen repeated news updates including the death toll. It had now risen to 53, Ed noted. He wondered if that included Donna and her team mate. He turned off the TV. He couldn't watch it anymore; scenes of destroyed federal buildings, a severely damaged city hall, replayed video of the walking wounded outside the explosion sites. It brought it all back and right now he didn't want to remember. He decided to ready himself to return to the hospital.

Later that morning, back at the hospital, Doctor Flynn came around visiting his patients once again. Marina and Dean had maintained their vigil at Greg's side throughout the night. He'd had a good night. He had been stable and there were no dramas to report. The doctor appeared much happier with Greg's progress.

"His stats have much improved," he told them. "I think it's time to extubate. We'll monitor how he copes with that and once we see that he's breathing easy, I'd like to try wake him up."

"That's great news," Marina said, hugging Dean. "Everything's okay then?"

"Looks good," Dr. Flynn replied confidently. "How about you two head to the cafeteria and get some breakfast? By the time you get back, we'll have the tube out."

"C'mon, Dean," Marina said feeling, like celebrating. She took the teen by the arm. "How do pancakes sound?"

"Sounds good," Dean replied and they strolled out of the ICU, content for a change.

When they returned, they found Greg looking much better. The ventilator tube had been replaced by a nasal cannula which rested on his upper lip. The deathly grey pallor had diminished and although he was still sickly pale, the corpse-like look was gone. The back of his bed had been raised slightly leaving him in a semi-seated position. It somehow made him look less ill, Dean thought.

He felt a twinge of excitement knowing that at some stage today his dad would wake and he would get to speak to him again. He would get the opportunity to tell him that he loved him. He felt nervous. He didn't really know what to expect. He imagined that his dad would be in pain, more than likely groggy. He wondered if he would know him. He had heard about people experiencing amnesia after suffering life-threatening injuries. He hoped that wouldn't be the case with his dad.

They sat for a few more hours. At one point, Marina went outside to check her cell phone. She had missed a call from her job. They had been very understanding about Greg getting hurt and had given her time off to be with him. However, they were calling to see if she could come in for a couple of hours. They were having issues with a client and she had dealt with them before and could help with the issue at hand. She called them back. Reluctantly, she agreed to go in for a while.

"Dean, I've had a call from work. I'm needed for a while. I'm sorry but I have to go," she told him.

"That's okay. Don't worry about it. I'll call you if he wakes," Dean promised.

Marina walked over to Greg and kissed him lovingly on the forehead.

"See you later, Babe."

So Dean was left alone with his dad in the ICU. The other patient had been transferred out of the unit earlier that morning so they had the room to themselves. Dean amused himself by leafing through pages of a National Geographic magazine that he had found in the waiting room earlier. He received a brief visit from Sophie who called up to see how Greg was before leaving for home. She told him that Clark was recovering from the operation on his leg and was looking forward to going home the following day, they hoped. Ed had returned to the hospital and was downstairs with him now, she told him. He promised to call up later.

Once Sophie left, Dean talked to his dad a little, commenting on articles including one about giant sequoias, which he found particularly interesting. He took some ice chips and moistened his dad's lips. At one point he thought that he noticed some changes in his dad's breathing. He watched his dad closely for several minutes afterwards, but nothing happened.

However, unknown to Dean, his dad was already flirting with consciousness. He felt like he was floating. It was a relaxing feeling, yet within the safety of this clouded mind, he felt a sense of unease. He realised that wherever he was, he wasn't in control of what was happening. He didn't know what was going on. Where was his team? It wasn't like them to leave him without back up. He hoped they were okay.

Dean was glad when Ed eventually appeared in the ICU for a visit.

"Hey, Dean," Ed said, sounding refreshed.

"Hey, Ed. You got some sleep I see," Dean noted from his freshened appearance.

"Yeah, a bit. Hey, have you seen this morning's paper?" Ed asked, handing it to him. "The city is looking for a hero and I think they found one."

Dean looked at the front page and was stunned to see his father's picture staring back at him beneath the headline; "Hero's life hangs in the balance". At first he wasn't sure what to think. He read the first few lines.

"The city of Toronto owes a debt of gratitude to the veteran SRU officer, Sergeant Gregory Parker, remembered as the face of calm among the panic of Black Friday. It is understood that the officer received serious injuries when confronted by crazed bomber, Marcus Faber, as he attempted to diffuse a device in the roof of Fletcher Stadium on Friday."

The article went on to describe the potential devastation and death toll had the device in the stadium exploded as well as the knock on effects of the radiation had it been released into the air. They described how, despite being wounded, Sergeant Parker managed to diffuse the bomb and save countless lives. His dad's career and citations were lauded in the article. It then briefly mentioned his family and background. Dean sighed as he read through, feeling a swell of pride. Then he looked at his dad again. It didn't matter what the paper said. He already knew that his dad was a hero, but it was time for this hero to wake up.

"Come on, Dad," he said, leaning close. "Come back to me."

Ed put his hand on the boys shoulder. He, too, hoped that today would be a turning point and his friend would regain consciousness. He walked around to the other side of the bed and took up station on a chair close to his head.

"Come on, Buddy," Ed said, taking Greg's hand. "Time to wake up."

Copy that, Greg thought. I hear ye, Eddie. I hear ye. Greg wanted desperately to comply, but it wasn't all that easy. He felt as though he was deep underwater, trying to swim to the surface. If he didn't break the surface soon, he felt he wasn't going to make it. He fought his silent battle with all his strength, mentally kicking his way to the top. The only encouragement needed was knowing that they were all waiting for him. Suddenly, he emerged from the gloom, broke the surface, opened his eyes wide and gasped for air.

The suddenness of his gasp startled both Ed and Dean who immediately jumped to their feet.

"Greg, it's okay, Buddy. It's okay. You're in the hospital," Ed said, putting himself in Greg's line of sight as Greg stared out blankly in front of him.

Greg panted and tried to control his breathing. It hurt, he realised. Why did it hurt? The flood of returning sensations overwhelmed him. Ed pressed the emergency call button for assistance.

"Dad, calm down. You need to breathe, just breathe," Dean said, taking deep deliberate breaths to demonstrate. It scared him to see his father's panic.

The nurse-on-call rushed to the room and saw immediately what was going on. Her patient had regained consciousness, rather dramatically it appeared, and now seemed in a distressed state.

"Mr. Parker, welcome back," she said, brushing past Dean. "I'm Joanne. You're in Trinity General Hospital. You had us worried there for a while, but you're doing well and you're going to be fine You just need to slow your breathing."

Greg looked wide-eyed at her then turned his head slowly to his left, towards Ed who was gripping his hand tightly.

"I got ye, Buddy," Ed told him, trying to soothe him.

Controlling his breathing, Greg then rolled his head the other way, his eyes resting on his son. Seeing Dean, he slowly began to calm, his eyes lingering on his son who was reaching past the nurse so he could take hold of his other hand.

"Shhhhhhh, it's okay, Dad," Dean said, reassuring him as best he could.

Greg responded. Keeping his eyes firmly on his son, his breathing finally regularised.

"Mr. Parker, are you in any pain?" Nurse Joanne interjected.

Greg nodded his head feebly. He quickly became aware that his chest was on fire and the constant pain shooting up his leg.

"I'll give you something for that," she said, leaving the room to sort out medication. Greg smiled weakly at his son.

"Deano," he whispered softly.

"Yeah, Dad. I'm here."

"You okay, Son?"

Dean looked over at Ed and then began to laugh. His dad was laying in an intensive care unit, obviously in pain, and was now asking him how he was. Typical.

"I'm great, Dad," Dean said, feeling a weight off his shoulders now that his dad was conscious. "Great, now that you're back."

Greg continued to hold his hand. He turned back to Ed.

"Hey….. Eddie," he said, in a breathy hushed voice.

"You made it, Buddy," Ed said, fighting the urge to hug him.

Greg smiled, but felt confused. Made it? He wasn't sure what his friend was talking about. Everything was a blur. He was in the hospital; that much he'd figured out. Why he was there, that was another story? He had a ton of questions, but struggled to find the words. For someone who was normally so articulate, his inability to get his thoughts together frustrated him. Maybe it was the medication? That would explain it, he thought. He felt so weak. He tried to sit up, but the nurse, who had just returned to the room, was quick to stop him.

"Easy there, Mr. Parker. You've just had major surgery and we don't want you undoing all the surgeon's good work now do we?" Joanne told him. "Dr. Flynn is on his way. He'll want to run a few quick tests."

_Major surgery? Tests? What the hell happened to me?_

Dr. Flynn arrived minutes later.

"Sergeant Parker, good to finally meet you," Dr. Flynn said, extending his hand. "I'm Dr. Flynn. I carried out your surgery."

Greg shook his hand weakly.

"I need to ask you a few simple questions, Greg, to see how you're doing. Is that okay?"

Greg nodded.

"Do you know what year it is?" Flynn asked.

"2012," Greg replied without hesitation.

"Who is the current prime minister?"

"Harper," Greg responded, pausing to think for an instant.

"Good," Flynn acknowledged. "Do you know where you are?"

"Hospital," Greg croaked.

"Can you remember how you were injured?"

Greg looked at the doctor, then at Dean and finally at Ed.

"Work?" he replied vaguely.

"Anything else?"

Greg strained to remember, but it was all one muddled blur at the moment. He took a guess.

"Was I shot?" he asked, suspecting he was.

"Yes, you were," Flynn replied. "You were hit in the chest and leg. You received serious injuries, Sergeant Parker. You're going to need to allow yourself time to fully recover."

His words slowly sank in, but the seriousness barely registered with him. His eyelids were drooping again and sleep threatened to reclaim him. Dean flashed a worried look in the direction of the doctor.

"He'll sleep more than he'll wake for the next few days as the sedative leaves his system. It's only to be expected. Try not to tire him out when he is awake. Keep visits to a minimum. He still has to face surgery to repair the damage to his leg. I've asked a specialist to consult on that injury and we'll devise a plan of action from there," he told Greg's son. "Mr. Parker, I've prescribed some pain meds which should make you more comfortable."

Greg didn't even acknowledge the doctor. His eyes were closed and his breathing heavy.

"Let him rest," the doctor told them as he administered the injection into his IV. "And you should too."

Ed and Dean thanked the doctor.

"I should call Marina," Dean said, reaching for his cell phone.

"Good idea," Ed replied. "And I'll let the team know the good news."

They both looked back at Greg who seemed to be sleeping peacefully, the pained look was gone from his face. Both Ed and Dean couldn't believe how relieved they felt as they walked out the door of the ICU room. A corner had been turned.

To be continued...

_A/N - still worried about the pace of this story but I promise that I will skip on in time over the next few chapter so as not to bore you to death._


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N - again, many thanks to you all for sticking with this story. You'll be relieved that this is a shorter chapter. **_

**Chapter 6**

Marina arrived back at the hospital soon after Dean had called her. She waited keenly for Greg's brown eyes to open again. Her heart was almost bursting in anticipation. As she sat there willing him to wake, she could see his eyelids flickering as though he was dreaming.

And he was dreaming, though his dreams were not filled with pleasurable thoughts. Recently buried memories were being retrieved and fractured images sent to his cerebral cortex. Disturbing scenes of devastation; a jumble of buildings exploding, limbless corpses, perfect children lifeless on the sidewalk, rows of bodies covered by tarps. Smoke…..choking….trying to breathe… a smouldering building….attempts to get inside only to be foiled by smoke. Disjointed images flew past him. Faces, most of whom he recognised as people his team had neutralised in the course of their duty, whizzed around his mind. "Scorpio! Scorpio! Scorpio!" the order he most despised giving resounded within the fragmented memories, each time followed by the sound of a single, eerie gunshot.

Intermittently, among the flashing faces were those of his team. Lew smiling, good times, then an explosion, Spike on his knees shattered by loss and devastation, beautiful Donna, another explosion, a fireman telling him it was over in a second, a wedding, Jules crying out to Sam, another explosion.

A gun fight, pain, looking up from the ground into the face of Marcus Faber and then down the barrel of his pistol and the shots.

Bang! Bang!

He jerked awake from his nightmare, startling Marina as he did so. His breathing was rapid but once he realised that he was safe, it started to slow down.

"Woah! Greg, it's okay, Honey," Marina said, jumping up and grabbing his shoulders to stop him hurting himself, realising that he probably had a bad dream. "I'm here. You're safe now. You're safe."

Greg sank back into his pillows and took a few deep breaths, as deep as his injured ribcage would allow.

"It's over, Greg. You're going to be fine," Marina reassured him as she leaned over him.

Greg looked up at her, raised his right hand to her face and gently stroked it.

"You're here," he said softly before she grasped his hand eagerly and kissed it.

"Of course I am," she said, leaning down and then kissing his lips. "Where else would I be, Silly?"

"Thank….you," Greg whispered. "Thank you for being here."

"Don't thank me, just get better," Marina ordered. "The doctor said you need to rest so you just do that and I'll sit here, okay? Can I get you anything?"

"Some…..water," he replied, a little breathless.

"Well, ice chips will have to do until the doctor says otherwise," she told him turning to the nearby table and taking the cup of ice. Using her fingers, she wet his lips with the ice first and then placed a couple of the chips in his mouth.

He savoured them and appreciated the moisture which helped ease the soreness in his throat.

"How long have I been here?" he eventually asked her.

"A couple of days," Marina told him.

"Dean?"

"Ed took him home to get some sleep. He's hardly left your side since you were hurt," she informed him.

"He's a good kid," Greg said, his eyes closing for a moment and then smiling.

"He's a great kid, Greg. You're a lucky man," Marina said.

Greg's struggled to open his eyes again. He couldn't believe how tired he was.

"Sure am," he said, not having the strength to fight the fatigue any more.

The rest of that day passed in similar fashion, Greg waking for short periods of time and doing his best to put on a brave front for his family. However, he had never felt as weak and helpless in all of his life.

By the following day his periods of awareness had increased. He was still in considerable discomfort. There was only so much pain that the drugs could mask, but he bore it well. He was embarrassed that he still didn't remember everything that had happened to him. He wanted to know everything. There was only one person he would trust to tell him everything and that was Eddie. He asked Dean to contact his friend and ask him to visit.

Ed wasn't spending as much time in the hospital now that Clark had been sent home. He was delighted when Dean called and said that his dad was asking for him. For most of the last few days, Greg was unconscious or sleeping whenever he called in.

"Hey, there he is," Ed said enthusiastically, marching in to the ICU room and seeing Greg sitting up and talking to his son.

"Hey, Buddy," Greg said, with a crooked smile.

Ed walked up to him and this time he hugged his friend, uninhibited in his love for the man. A few mutual back slaps eventually signalled the end of the embrace.

"Thought you'd be looking for this," Ed said, producing Greg's black SRU baseball cap and putting it on his head. Greg grinned widely.

"You look much better now, Boss," Ed said, taking a seat beside Dean.

"Must be the hat," Greg joked.

"How do you feel?" Ed enquired.

"About as good as I look," Greg said, knowing that Ed was just being kind.

"Hah!" Ed chuckled. "The team are asking after you."

"They are? How are they coping? How's Jules?" Greg asked, appearing to get a little emotional.

"They're good, considering. Jules is fine," Ed said, a bit curious about Greg's sudden sensitivity, but then again, he had been through a traumatic experience. There were bound to be raw emotions. "They'd like to visit."

"Hey, Dean, I'd like to have a chat with Eddie in private if you don't mind," Greg said apologetically.

"Sure, no problem, Dad. I'll take a walk," Dean said, unperturbed by being asked to leave.

"Are you okay, Greg?" Ed asked him once Dean had left.

"I know what happened," Greg admitted, his face betraying his sadness. "They're dead, Eddie."

"I know, Boss. Too many," Ed replied, presuming Greg was talking about Donna and the other victims of Faber.

"How is Jules so strong? I mean, losing him on their wedding day," Greg said mournfully.

"Losing who? What are you talking about, Greg?"

"Sam, of course," Greg said, glaring at Ed like he'd lost his mind.

"Sam? Sam's fine. I think you're a little confused, Buddy," Ed said, trying to be tactful.

"He's fine? But I remember the explosion. I remember clearly. I lost communication. I lost him," Greg told him, sounding so sure.

"Well, yeah, sort of. His bomb did explode but he was clear. He got the wind knocked out of him, but he's fine," Ed reassured him. "I promise you, Boss, Sam's very much alive."

"He is? You're not just protecting me from the truth, Eddie. I mean, I don't need protecting from the truth," Greg told him.

"On my kid's lives, Greg. He's fine, Jules and the baby are fine, Leah and Spike are fine. You're the only one we nearly lost," Ed told him. There was a pregnant pause before Greg spoke.

"I can't remember it, Eddie. I mean, it's all messed up. Will you tell me how this happened? It might just straighten things out in my head," Greg asked.

So Ed told him everything that had happened on that ill-fated day from the start. Greg listened quietly taking it all in. His heart broke a little when Ed's eyes filled with tears as he told him about losing Donna. On hearing about it, it flashed back to him in an instant, yelling at her to get out, taking cover against the police car, the concussion of the explosion hitting him and the horrible realisation that there was no way she could survive that blast.

"I remember."

Ed told him about digging Clark out of the rubble at City Hall, his fears for his son and the relief when he discovered that he was okay. He told him about meeting back with the team and being told that Greg had been exposed to radioactive material and had to go off line to be decontaminated. This was what led him to being at the stadium where Faber had planted the last bomb. Ed recounted how each team member had been given a location and a bomb to diffuse, Spike talking each of them through it. He then described how Sam's bomb detonated and their short-lived fear that they had lost him.

As Ed spoke, he noticed how Greg's attention was waning. He was tiring.

"I'll tell you the rest later. You get some rest," Ed said to his weakened friend.

"No, just tell now. Please," Greg pleaded, deliberately widening his eyes to show he was awake.

"Are you sure? You look beat," Ed told him.

"Please."

Ed sensed that it was important to him so he continued, this time reminding Greg about his realisation that the last bomb was in the stadium where the injured were being treated. He described to him his heroic decision to diffuse the bomb himself, ordering his team to stay away because it too was a dirty bomb.

"He was there," Greg said, remembering another nugget.

"Yeah, he was. And you took a round in the vest, got up and kept following Spike's instructions. I heard you getting hit again. Sam and I were coming up the stairs, but we didn't get there quick enough. I heard you talking to him, telling him that you'd diffused his bomb and I knew you were hurt. I could hear it in your voice," Ed said, his voice breaking as he recalled his emotions at the time. "When we got there, he was standing over you and I shot him."

"You shot him," Greg repeated, thinking he remembered. "You saved my life, Buddy. I remember now. He was going to kill me and you appeared. Thank you, Eddie."

"Don't thank me, Boss. I shouldn't have let you go up there without back-up. I should have known he'd still be in there. If I'd have followed my gut you wouldn't be laying here now. We could have lost you, dammit," Ed said angry with himself.

"Don't," Greg said, shaking his head. "Eddie, don't do this to yourself. You did what you had to do. So did I. We survived, Eddie, lots of people didn't. We'll get through it. Now, get outta here," Greg said lightly. "Go on, get home to your family. Tell them I said hi."

Ed laughed. Greg joined in, but his laugh ended in a painful cough. As Ed left the room, Greg whispered, "Thanks, Buddy."

Greg slept some more, his mind finally putting together the pieces of what had happened on the day he got shot. A lot of it he didn't want to remember, but knew he would have to deal with it sooner or later. At least he wouldn't be dealing with it alone.

To be continued...

_**A/N - this story is looking like it will be longer than I anticipated. You'll be glad to know that next chapter, our hero will be out of ICU and ready for some more visitors.**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/n - sorry, I'm a bit slow updating. Real life butting in again! Moving the story on slightly.**_

**Chapter 7**

The following day, Greg was moved to a private room. No longer had he to stare at the clinical white walls of the ICU, instead the pastel green walls and flowery drapes gave his new room a more homely feel. He still wasn't allowed out of bed, much to his frustration although he didn't have to be reminded that his leg still required treatment and that he wouldn't be mobile until that was sorted. Today he was told to expect a visit by the orthopaedic specialist, Dr. Sylvie Lambert. He hoped he would get some goo news on that front. But more importantly to him, he would now be allowed visitors, and hopefully that meant he would see his team. He needed to see them, to see for himself that they were all okay.

He was also told that he could now take some solid food, which didn't really rock his world as he still had no appetite, but it was another step towards recovery, he told himself. And his room had a TV! Now that he spent more time awake, it would help with the monotony of an inevitable long stay in hospital. He had sent Marina and Dean home the night before, insisting that he was fine and that they should get back to some semblance of normality in their lives, but inwardly he eagerly anticipated their return.

He was resting with his head back and eyes closed when his first visitors of the day arrived. Jules and Sam sneaked quietly into the room, thinking Greg was asleep.

"Maybe we should come back later," Sam whispered to Jules.

Greg heard his whispers and opened his eyes and saw them turning around to leave.

"Hey, you two, where are you going?" he said, gesturing at them to return.

"Hey, Sarge," Sam said, walking over to him and giving him a man hug. "You look good."

"Sure I do," Greg replied with a hint of a smile.

Jules was more emotional at seeing her boss awake finally. The last time she had seen him he was struggling to survive in the ICU. The change was remarkable. The sheer relief of seeing him sitting up and looking relatively well overwhelmed her. She couldn't help it and tears of relief fell as she hugged him.

"Hey, don't cry," Greg said, holding on to her. "I'm going to be okay."

"I know you are, Boss," she said, taking out a tissue from her handbag. "It's just…"

"I know," he replied softly. "I know. I wasn't a good day."

"Don't mind her, Sarge," Sam said jovially. "She is _so_ hormonal right now, you wouldn't believe."

"Hey, Mr. Braddock, you mind your manners or I'll show you just how hormonal I can get," Jules retorted, feigning offence.

"You'd better listen to your wife, Sam," Greg said, grinning.

"Saying it like that, still sounds weird," Sam said to his boss. "My wife."

"Better get used to it," Jules joked.

"I'm so sorry," Greg said, solemnly, the comment not exactly pertinent to the conversation.

"Sorry, Boss? Sorry about what?" Jules asked.

"Your wedding day getting so messed up," Greg replied.

"That was hardly your fault, Boss. Anyway, we've talked about it and we'll do it again, properly this time," Sam told him. "We'll have our perfect day, church, honeymoon and everything."

Jules took her husband's hand and he leaned down and kissed her. Greg couldn't help but smile at their happiness. They deserved to be happy. He had seen the signs early on. They were meant for each other.

"Never mind all that," Jules said, "How are you feeling, Sarge?"

"Like I've been run over by a bus," Greg replied honestly. "Some specialist is coming to check out my leg later. Doc said I need to have more surgery on it."

"Well, you listen to the doctors," Jules said, coming over all motherly. "They know what they're talking about."

They chatted some more, Greg asking how the pregnancy was going, joking that if it was a boy they had to call him Gregory. While they were there, they both got messages on their cell phones that they were to report for duty the following day. The message informed them that they would not be actively on call, but that they had to attend mandatory counselling.

"That's good," Greg commented upon hearing about the counselling. "You all need to deal with what happened that day. It was traumatic for everyone. Please, take advantage of what's being offered and look out for each other."

They only stayed a short while after that because Ed had warned the whole team that if they visited the boss, that he was still weak and wouldn't be able for long visits. When they left, Greg fell asleep easily and the hours slipped away.

At lunchtime Marina phoned to say that she would be over later in the evening and promised to bring him some items from home. A tray of bland food had been left in front of him and he tried a little, but couldn't face it. He took some juice and a couple spoons of a custard-like pudding. He lay back and hoped he could keep it down.

Dr. Flynn and orthopaedic specialist, Dr. Sylvie Lambert, entered his room after lunch as he dozed with the TV on.

"Ah, Sergeant Parker, this is Dr. Lambert. She'd like to take a look at your leg wound, if that's okay?" Flynn said, rounding the bottom of the bed.

Dr. Lambert extended her hand and greeted him.

"Nice to meet you, Sergeant. It's not often I get to meet a real, live hero," she said, a genuine smile extending across her face.

"I don't know where you're getting this hero business," Greg said bashfully. "I'm just a cop who got himself shot."

"Not according to the news," she informed him.

Greg had no idea what she was talking about, he hadn't seen any news reports, and didn't push to find out. He was more interested in what she had to say about his leg. Dr. Flynn removed the sheet that covered Greg's left leg and carefully cut away bandage and gauze.

"You might not want to look," he said to Greg, as he removed the final dressing that covered his outside leg.

Of course, Greg wanted to see the extent of the damage for himself. He was nauseated by what he saw. His leg, just above his knee was grossly swollen and discoloured. A small entry wound which dotted his inner leg looked relatively tame, but the significant exit wound on his outer thigh shocked him. It was a crater the size of his clenched fist, jagged and raw, still oozing blood. He fought back the bile that was rising in his throat.

"Are you okay, Greg?" Flynn asked, noticing his patient pale suddenly. "Just put your head back and take deep breaths."

Greg breathed through the nausea and did as the doctor instructed. He could feel increased discomfort as Dr. Lambert probed the area. He was too busy concentrating on not puking to properly absorb all she was saying about the injury. He hadn't anticipated the muscle loss.

"Significant tissue damage…bone is intact….ruptured vastus medialis …gracilis damage…," words that meant little to him.

"I'd like an MRI scan as soon as one can be arranged and then I'd like to get you on my operating table, Sergeant. The damage is quite severe, but I can repair some of the tendon and muscular damage. And with physio, we could get seventy per cent mobility back," she told him confidently.

Seventy per cent? Seventy per cent is not one hundred per cent. Hold on a minute. That means….

It was starting to sink in. It had never crossed his mind that his injuries could have permanent repercussions on his lifestyle. If he can't get back to one hundred per cent fitness, he will not even be considered for active duty, he realised.

"Seventy per cent?" Greg repeated as if there was some mistake.

"With a bit of luck," she said, still smiling as though she was giving good news.

"Seventy per cent," Greg said with resignation.

He looked down as the doctor re-dressed the wound. He was stunned. He didn't know what to say. This was a game changer, he realised, a life changer.

The two doctors left, leaving Greg to mull over the fact that he may never work again in SRU though no one never actually said it. Greg wondered if they even realised the implications of their seventy per cent estimate. NO matter what way he looked at it, he came to the same conclusion that his career was more than likely over. To his surprise, he was overcome with emotion. His world was crumbling around him.

It was at that inopportune time that Spike knocked on his door and entered the room. Smiling, he greeted his boss, who wasn't quick enough in wiping his tears away.

"Boss? Oh, I'm sorry, Boss. Is this a bad time?" Spike asked, embarrassed to find his sergeant in such a state.

Greg just shook his head.

"Are you in pain? Should I get someone?" Spike asked, anxious to help.

"No, thanks, Spike," Greg replied, sniffling.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Spike enquired innocently.

"Sure, yeah, of course I do," Greg snapped sarcastically. "My career is over. How does that grab ya as a conversation starter?"

Spike looked at him, stunned at his vehemence. He wasn't sure whether he should leave or not. He suddenly felt very unwelcome. Greg noticed the hurt look on Spike's face and instantly regretted his curt words.

"I'm sorry, Spike. I didn't mean to take it out on you," he said remorsefully.

"It's okay, Boss, but what do you mean your career is over?" Spike asked, trying to make sense of his angered words.

"Well, you know that less serious bullet wound, the one in my leg? Turns out that it's the one that will side-line me for good," he told him.

Spike looked appalled as he heard the words. It couldn't be true.

"Is that what the doctors said?" Spike asked.

"Not in so many words, but you don't need to be a genius to read between the lines," Greg told him.

"Maybe you misunderstood?" Spike suggested, trying to offer consolation.

"Maybe?" Greg said, not really believing it.

"Ah, Boss, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Spike said, barely able to look at Greg. "This is all my fault."

Greg looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"Spike, what are you talking about?" Greg asked the crestfallen SRU constable.

"I should have been up there, Boss. I should have been disarming that bomb, not you," Spike told him. "I'm the bomb tech. That's my job."

"Are you serious?" Greg asked. "I mean, you were there, right? There just wasn't time. I would have gladly waited for you to get there if I thought it was safe to do so, but I couldn't risk it, Spike. You've got to see that. None of this is your fault, Spike. I hope you haven't been carrying all that with you since Friday. If I'd known that, I would have set you straight right away."

Spike stood with his head hung low.

"Spike, come here," Greg said, gesturing to this right hand side.

Spike shuffled closer.

"Spike, I'm so proud of you," Greg said, putting his hand behind the younger man's neck and pulling him closer. "You were amazing out there. I couldn't have asked for better. You were under such huge pressure, but I never once doubted you, Spike. You saved the team. You saved me, not to mention the hundreds of people that were still in the stadium. Without you in my ear, I would never have been able to stop that bomb, Spike. Don't you ever forget that."

"Thanks, Boss," Spike said, starting to see the light.

"And Spike, can you do me a favour?" Greg asked.

"Sure, Boss. Anything," Spike replied.

"What you heard, you know, about my leg, please keep it to yourself, at least until I'm sure," Greg asked.

"Okay, Boss. I won't say anything, but you really should tell Ed and Marina," Spike told him.

"I know, Spike. I will, when I've had time to get my head around it," Greg replied.

Spike left a short while later, feeling devastated for his boss. He knew how important the job was to Parker. He feared for the man who had been such an influence on him over the last few years. He wondered how he would cope not being able to do the one thing that he loved the most.

To be continued...


	8. Chapter 8

**_A/N - thanks again for your reviews and comments. Big shout out to rgs38 & Ace Bullets for helping me out with some factual stuff._**

Chapter 8

The next day was the day of Greg's surgery. Marina and Dean phoned early that morning, planning on coming to see him, but Greg had insisted that Dean go back to school and Marina back to work. There was nothing they could do sitting by his bedside day in day out. His recovery was going to be a long one and he had to get used to being there by himself he decided. Reluctantly, they did as he asked.

It was difficult for Dean to go back to school, knowing his dad was in the hospital. Marina had stayed in the apartment with him the night before and after they hung up from talking to Greg, she made him a packed lunch for school. She insisted on dropping him to school on her way to work. When he got there, Dean realised that he was a bit of a celebrity, courtesy of his dad's heroics. Kids he didn't even know would stop him in the hall and ask after his dad, asking him to send their get well wishes. Dean was a bit overwhelmed by all the attention. He would much rather be with his dad than be fielding questions about how he diffused the bomb and how badly injured he is. He couldn't wait for the bell to ring.

Ed called in to the hospital on his way in to work though. When he got there Greg didn't appear to be in the best of form. He appeared listless, lying on the bed, showing no real interest in the fact that his best friend was there, chatting to him, trying to keep him up to date with all that was going on. His face looked a little flushed, Ed noticed. Eventually, he had to ask.

"Are you sure you're feeling all right?" he asked, growing a little concerned.

"Yeah, fine," Greg grumbled. "Just a bit nervous about the surgery."

"That's understandable," Ed told him. "But this one's pretty minor. You'll be out in a couple of hours, isn't that what they told you?"

"Yeah, I know," Greg replied, thinking 'if only he knew'.

Then Ed stepped forward and put the back of his hand against Greg's forehead, as a mother would to her ailing child.

"What are you doing?" Greg asked, flinching away, glaring crossly at his friend.

"You look like you have a temperature," Ed told him, realising there was something off.

"Thank you, Nurse Lane," Greg muttered with sarcasm.

"I'm serious, Greg. You shouldn't have a fever. I'm going to get the nurse," Ed told him.

"Jeez, Ed, stop fussing. I'm fine," Greg called after him as Ed left the room. "I've just got a headache."

Ed returned accompanied by one of the nurses a couple of minutes later. Trust Ed to find the pretty blonde, Greg thought as she entered.

"See for yourself. He says he's fine," Ed told her as she approached Greg's bedside, "but he's not."

She took a digital thermometer from her uniform pocket and placed it in his ear and waited for the reading.

"You're right," she said, looking at the digital reading. "102.6, Mr. Parker. I'd better inform the doctor."

The doctor was informed and appeared down in Greg's room within fifteen minutes. He wasn't at all happy when he got there. He was flicking through Greg's chart with a stern expression on his face, checking the records of his patient's temperature from the night before. He then asked the nurse to take a blood pressure reading. It was low, which concerned him.

"Sergeant Parker, all indications point to an infection," he told him grimly, "which means, until we sort it, your surgery can not go ahead."

"But I feel fine, Doc," Greg said, putting a shine on the truth. In fact his head ached, his body ached, his mouth was dry and he felt shivery.

"Well, you're not fine. I'll put you on a stronger antibiotic and see how you fare on that. You should rest and let the medication work. I'll check in on you in a few hours," the doctor told him.

The doctor left and the nurse fussed about, hanging an antibiotic drip on a stand above his left shoulder and attaching it to the cannula in the back of his hand. Greg barely tolerated her and was glad when she left.

He did not appear to be happy at all and it didn't go unnoticed. He barely spoke to Ed after that. He just wanted to be left alone.

"I'd better go then, Greg," Ed said, sensing that his presence wasn't appreciated. "Hollaran wants us all in by 10am this morning. We can look forward to a day of spilling our guts," Ed told him, trying to lighten the mood.

"See ya," Greg said, turning slightly on his left side away from Ed.

"Okay then," Ed said, trying to remain patient. "Call if you need anything."

Greg didn't respond. Ed wasn't sure what to make of Greg's mood. It was rare that he'd ever seen Greg so disconsolate. He tried to make excuses for him, after all, he had almost died, now he had an infection. He was probably feeling pretty rotten, he assumed. He made a decision there and then to return to check up on him after work. He was starting to worry not only about his friend's physical well-being, but also his emotional well-being. He just wasn't himself.

When Ed got to SRU Headquarters, the rest of Team One was already there in the briefing room. Commander Hollaran was sitting there, patiently waiting for the team leader to arrive. Ed caught some welcoming glances from his team members as he entered and sat down. They all suspected where he had been. So did Hollaran.

"How's Sergeant Parker doing today, Ed?" Hollaran asked, sounding unlike his usual brusque self.

"He's okay," Ed said as he took a chair. "His temps up so they've cancelled his surgery for today. He's a bit grumpy because of that."

"I bet he is," Hollaran said. "I've been meaning to call to see him. I'll was going to wait until he's feeling better."

"Yeah, probably best to wait," Ed replied, judging from today's mood that he wouldn't be in form for visitors.

"Okay, well, as you all know, you've been called in today to undergo mandatory trauma counselling," Hollaran told them. "Oh, before I forget it, I heard a short while ago that Constable Sabine's funeral will take place tomorrow afternoon. We'll be looking for some officers to act as pall bearers and others for a guard of honour if any of you would be interested."

"Absolutely, count us in," Ed said, glancing around the table at his team mates to see their agreement. There was no question.

"Good. I'll get the details to you before end of shift. Actually, Ed, would you say a few words at the service?" he asked. "Greg would want someone to represent him."

Ed considered for a moment, then nodded in agreement.

"Right then, Constable Callaghan or should I say Mrs. Braddock, you're scheduled in to Dr. Thompson in thirty minutes, then Constables Scarlatti, Braddock, Kerns and then you, Ed. This will just be a preliminary session and more sessions will be arranged as Dr. Thompson deems necessary."

Everyone nodded, agreeing with the arrangement. Most of them knew the drill.

"Look, guys, I know last Friday was about as tough a day as you'll ever have in uniform," Hollaran said solemnly. "We lost some good people and no matter how we try to cling on to how things were, things will never be the same. I think you all know that. You did an outstanding job out there. Let there be no doubt, you saved countless lives. The city owes you a great debt."

The team sat, numbly listening to his words of praise. As Spike listened to the commander, all he could think about was how things would never be the same for the boss. He wanted to share what he knew with his team mates, but had to respect Greg's wishes and keep it to himself.

So, difficult as it was, he said nothing.

The team hung around, each waiting for their turn with the psychologist. As Spike waited in the gym, Winnie found him and asked him how he was doing. Spike joked nervously about going to get his head shrunk and asked Winnie to order new hats for the team, all of whom would have smaller heads before the day was over. He made her smile, which made him happy.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" she said, pushing him playfully.

"You don't know the half of it," Spike told her. There was a tiny awkward silence before Spike decided to use the moment to his advantage. "Eh, Winnie, I was wondering if you'd like to go to dinner with me, you know, as a thank you for the other night? I really intruded on you and I had no right. I'd like to make it up to you."

Winnie hesitated, knowing what her heart wanted, but painfully aware of the likely difficulties professionally if this didn't work out. Then she remembered how close she had come to losing him and how, on that tragic day, she realised her true feelings.

"It's okay," Spike said, thinking the pause was because she was trying to find a way to let him down gently. "It was just an idea."

"No, it's not that," Winnie replied, smiling shyly at him. "I was hoping that maybe you'd come over to mine and I'd cook us something. I make a mean lasagne."

Spike released a nervous laugh.

"Okay, that would be great," he said, beaming from ear to ear. "If you're sure?"

"How does eight sound?"

"Perfect!" he replied. "See you then."

Spike and the rest of the team spoke individually to the counsellor about their unique experiences on the day of the bombings. The sessions lasted an hour and they were each told to attend a minimum of three sessions over the next week. Ed was last to go in and when he came out the rest of the team had left for home on his earlier instructions.

Ed called Sophie and told her that he was calling in to see Greg on the way home. When he got to the hospital, he saw a worried -looking Marina outside the door of Greg's room, talking to the doctor. As he approached, she gave a slight wave for him to come over.

"Hey," Ed said, greeting the pair. "What's going on?"

"Greg's fever is getting worse," Marina told him. "They think he may have sepsis."

"Aw hell," Ed said, frowning. "How serious is it?"

"Considering his weakened state, it is worrying, but he's on a strong course of IV antibiotics. We just need to give them time to work," Dr. Flynn told them.

"How can he get an infection? He's in a hospital, for God's sake," Marina asked, demanding answers.

"The source of the infection is most likely from foreign matter entering his body as a result of the bullet wounds. A fragment may have been missed during surgery, a piece of cloth, it could be a number of things. We may never know the exact source, but we've caught it early. It's a setback but he will recover," the doctor told them confidently. "If he gets any worse overnight, we'll re-admit him to the ICU to keep a closer eye on him."

"Okay, Doc, thanks," Ed said, giving the doctor an opportunity to leave because Marina looked like she was going to bombard him with questions for the night.

"Come on," Ed said, leading Marina into Greg's room.

Dean was sitting at his bedside, holding a damp wash cloth against his dad's fevered brow. Greg was in a deep, agitated sleep. He had been placed back on oxygen, Ed noticed, and his breathing was more rapid than it should be.

"How long has he been like this?" Ed enquired, surprised to see the decline in Greg's condition.

"A few hours," Dean said. "I spoke to him by phone earlier and he wasn't feeling the best, but I wasn't expecting this."

"Me neither," Ed said, feeling just as worried as Dean.

"This is serious, Ed, isn't it?" Dean said, Ed's concerned expression not lost on him.

"I don't know, Dean. I guess it could be," he told him.

Marina took over the wash cloth duties. He immersed the cloth in a bowl near the bed, wrung it out and dabbed it gently on his forehead, down his face and onto his bare chest. It was growing ever clearer to Ed that this woman was a lot deeper in love with his friend that he had initially thought. Over the last few days, the depth of her feelings had become more evident. He knew she was in it for the long haul. There was no doubt that she was going to give up on Greg when the chips were down. She was heavily invested in the relationship. Ed could see that now. He was glad his friend had someone who loved him in his life. He suspected that he was going to need her now, more than ever.

"Marina, I'll stay with him tonight if you like," Ed offered.

"Thanks, Ed, but I'd rather stay myself," she said, appreciating his offer. "You go home. I'll tell him you were here."

"If you're sure?" Ed replied. "How about you, Dean? Do you want to stay over in mine tonight?"

"No thanks, Ed. With Dad like this, I think I'll stay here with Marina," the youngster replied.

Ed bid them a good night and reluctantly left the hospital. He spent the rest of the night tossing and turning in bed, worrying about Greg and thinking about Donna.

Unaware of the deterioration in his boss's condition, Spike checked himself in the mirror before grabbing the bottle of wine off the kitchen table and his car keys. He felt a little nervous about going to dinner at Winnie's. He was head over heels in love with the dispatcher, but she had always kept him at a distance, friends but no romance was the signal he received. He had never pushed it, but always held a torch for her.

Then, the night she took him home, the night after the bombings, they kissed. At least he's pretty sure they did. That whole night was a little fuzzy. It was entirely possible that he had dreamt the whole thing, but he hoped he hadn't.

He arrived at Winnie's apartment exactly on time. He rang the bell and she let him up.

"Hi," she said, opening the door as he stepped out of the elevator.

"Am I too early?" he asked as he got to the door.

"Right on time," she said, as he handed her the bottle of wine and she kissed him on the cheek.

They entered the apartment and closed the door.

"You look amazing," Spike said, appreciating the vision that stood before him.

She wore a fitted black dress and a pair of peep-toe heels which accentuated her curves and her slender legs. Her hair curled over her shoulders and down her back.

"So do you," she replied, reaching for two wine glasses.

"Something smells great," Spike said, breathing in the cooking aromas.

"I hope you like it. Is red okay?" she asked him, referring to the wine.

"Whatever you're having," he replied.

She poured, handed him a glass and they took a seat on the sofa. They chatted a little until Winnie decided that it was time to eat.

As they sat at the kitchen table, Winnie noticed that Spike was quieter than normal. Maybe he was being shy, she considered, but usually he turned on the charm when they were alone. She knew that what had happened last Friday had affected him a lot and was still worried about him.

"How did it go with the counsellor today?" she asked, hoping he would open up to her.

"Oh, you know, lots of questions. Same old story," he replied vaguely.

"I'm not going to get anything out of you tonight, am I?" she asked, before taking a bite from her garlic bread.

"I'm sorry. I'm not the best of company, am I?" he replied.

"You can talk to me, you know, if there's something bothering you," she said, reaching across the table and placing her hand on his.

"I promised I wouldn't tell anyone," he said, looking into her eyes.

"If you need to unload, Spike, I promise I won't say a thing," she said, meeting his gaze.

Spike sighed and then nodded.

"It's the boss," he said, breaking eye contact. He looked to his right and bit his lip. "He told me that the wound to his leg will end his career. He'll never work with SRU again," he said, his eyes glazing over with tears.

"What? Is he sure?"

"He was pretty upset. He said he would never get back to full fitness. I caught him crying. I've never seen him cry before," Spike said, putting down his fork and reaching for his glass of wine.

"Poor Sarge," Winnie said, imagining how he must be feeling. "And he hasn't told anyone yet?"

"Not as far as I know. He wants to wait until after the surgery and see how it goes," Spike told her.

A contemplative silence ensued. Then Winnie spoke.

"You're not still blaming yourself, Spike, are you? None of this is your fault," she insisted.

"That's what Sarge said too," Spike replied. "But it feels like it is."

Winnie wanted so badly to kiss him, but settled for holding his hand across the table. They finished their meal in relative silence. Winnie cleared the plates and Spike loaded the dishwasher. Then they retired to the sofa and topped up their wine glasses. Eventually, Winnie took control, when it was obvious that Spike wouldn't, put down her glass and took his out of his hand, leaving it on the coffee table.

She ran her hand through his hair and then traced it softly down his cheek until it rested on his chest. She could feel his heartbeat speed up. He swallowed nervously before allowing his hands to roam. He drew Winnie closer and she found his lips comfortably and they kissed. It was as wonderful as he had imagined. Part of him couldn't believe that this was happening. Their kissing became more passionate, culminating in Winnie rising to her feet, taking Spike's hand and leading him to her bedroom.

Among the sadness and the tragedy, it was the beginning of something beautiful.

Not everyone had such a nice night. Marina and Dean spent a long, uncomfortable night by Greg's bedside. There were two armchairs in the room and they each tried to get some sleep using them. Marina's chair was pulled close to Greg and she curled up with her feet resting slightly on the edge of the bed for most of the night. Dean lay back on his chair on the other side of the bed, using a low table as a foot rest. The night shift nursing team had left in a couple of blankets and pillows which they were very grateful for.

When Greg woke the next morning, he was surprised by the sight of his girlfriend's tousled blonde locks, spread out over his arm and she fast asleep beside him. He moved slightly and she felt the movement and jumped awake.

"Hey, you," she said, delighted that he was awake.

"Hey, Gorgeous," Greg sighed. "What time is it?"

Marina checked her watch.

"Almost 6am," she replied.

"6am?" Greg said, surprised at the amount of time that had passed.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, feeling his forehead. "You look better. I think your fever has broken."

"Fever?"

"Dad!" Dean had heard the voices and woke.

"Hey, son," Greg said, smiling in the boy's direction.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked anxiously.

"Yeah, a little," Greg replied. "How long have you been here?"

Marina and Dean exchanged a subtle glance. Marina was the one to reply.

"About twelve hours," she told him. "You've been in and out. We were worried about you."

"Don't worry about me," Greg said, reaching for her hand. "You've been here all night."

"We didn't want you to be alone," she told him.

"Thanks," he said, the word slightly slurred.

"Go back to sleep," Marina told him. "They put you on strong antibiotics to fight the infection, so you'll feel pretty wiped out."

Greg nodded. That he did. His heavy eyelids drooped and he was unable to fight it. Just another few minutes, he decided. Those few minutes turned into a couple of hours. The doctor came in later that morning while he was sleeping. He checked the chart, Greg's temperature and arranged for more blood work. There would be no surgery today either, he decided. It was too risky to put an unstable patient under anaesthesia for a surgery on an injury that was not life threatening.

Dr, Lambert had expressed her preference to getting the police officer into theatre as soon as possible as it would give her more options. The longer the delay, the likelihood of muscle necrosis and more limited options.

To be continued...

_**A/N - no idea what day of the week the bombing took place. I just picked one. You can correct me if I'm wrong. Bit of a long chapter. Again, guessing and googling the medical stuff. Hope it makes sense.**_


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N - this chapter will get angsty so be forewarned. So glad you are hanging in there and still reviewing and letting me know what you think. Thank you all so much!**

Chapter 9

When the Lane household woke that same morning, an air of sadness pervaded. Today was the day SRU would bury one of their own. The funeral wasn't until that afternoon, but Ed was preparing to go in to work first where his team would brush up on funeral protocol. As Ed stood gazing aimlessly out of his kitchen window, his wife, Sophie, came up behind him and put her arms around his waist.

"Are you okay?" she asked, knowing how difficult a day her husband faced.

Ed turned around to face her.

"Not really," he admitted. "It's going to be hard, Soph."

"I know, Baby," she said, kissing him on the lips. "But we'll be there if you need us."

"You don't have to come," Ed told her. "I don't expect you to."

"I know, but Clark wants to go so I'll take him. Tina said she would watch Izzy," Sophie informed him.

"Okay, well I'll see you there then. I have some stuff to do at work first," he told her.

"You should really eat something," Sophie said, as Ed grabbed his coat from the back of the chair.

"I'll grab something on the way," he told her, kissing her again and heading out the door.

As Ed drove into the city, he called Marina to see how Greg was doing. He was relieved to hear that his temperature had come down and that he was doing better. One less thing to worry about today, he thought.

He was first into the office that morning. He sat at the meeting table alone and took out a sheet of paper that he had folded in his jacket pocket. He looked blankly at the words. Hollaran had asked if Ed would speak at Donna's funeral service, in the absence of Sergeant Parker. Without thinking, Ed had agreed but now was starting to regret it. What would he say? How could he talk about her without going to pieces?

He closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift to the first time they worked together; her wary smile as she anticipated the usual initiation gags, her confidence in the field when difficult decisions had to be made, her wit, her love of life. He shook his head solemnly. What a waste of a beautiful life! She would have made a great mom, he thought, remembering how he teased her after she and Hank got married and how she smiled contently, knowing it was something she wanted. How do you put such a loss into words?

The rest of the team arrived soon after. Jules and Sam first, dressed in their dress uniforms, looking smart and polished. They, too, were sombre. Jules was mindful that they could have been burying their boss today too. Leah arrived next, joining up with the rest of her team in the meeting room. Spike was last to arrive. Despite the solemn occasion, he was unable to wipe the smile off his face. Ed noticed and was curious, but Spike wasn't giving anything away. When Winnie arrived in the office with a similar smile, it didn't take long for Ed to put two and two together.

They all sat and discussed the proceedings for the day. They had to be at the church early on Hollaran's orders. Six members of SRU were required as pall bearers, Leah, Spike and Sam would represent Team One while three members of Donna's current team would make up the numbers. Representatives from all the city's emergency services would be there as part of the guard of honour.

By the time they got to the church, Ed nerves were jangling. As he walked up the aisle, he saw his family among the congregation, which gave him some strength. At the top of the aisle stood Donna's casket, upon which sat a photograph of a smiling, happy Donna, in uniform. It caught Ed's eye and an ache pierced his heart. He sat into a pew beside his team mates, a couple of rows behind the principal mourner, Hank, Donna's husband, and her other family members.

The service was touching. Lamenting music filled the church as the mourners arrived. A choir lifted the roof with their voices as hymns were sung at intervals throughout. Tears flowed in abundance, sobs echoed at silent moments. Then the time arrived for Ed to speak. He felt hundreds of pairs of eyes fall on him as he stood and walked a lonely walk, past the casket and on to the altar. Standing in front of them, emotionally vulnerable, he first searched the crowd for his family for reassurance, then his team, before his eyes met those of Hank Gerald, Donna's widower. He looked a lost soul among the mourners, his world shattered by the cruel loss of his beloved wife. Ed tried not to think of how he must be feeling because his only goal was to try and get through his oration.

And get through it, he did. He spoke eloquently of a loyal and brave colleague who gave her life in the line of duty. He remembered a close friend, whom he loved dearly. He struggled at times to keep a lid on his emotions, but whenever they threatened to bubble over, he reminded himself that he was not the one who had lost his wife. He had to remain strong because her family needed him to be strong. It was difficult for him, but he did himself proud; he did SRU proud.

As the service ended, Sam, Spike and Leah stood along with the three members of Team Three and they lined up either side of the coffin. Well-rehearsed and slow marching in unison, they escorted their colleague and friend down the church aisle to the waiting hearse which would take her on her final journey. More sobs and sniffles broke the silence as they marched out of the church.

The funeral cortege wound its way to the cemetery that would be Donna's final resting place. More words and ceremony, more tears, more heartbreak as her husband bid her a final farewell. Ed clung to his wife's hand and fought back tears as he watched them lower her down. As the crowd dissipated, he and Sophie waited to sympathize with Hank. He thanked them for coming and was surprisingly composed. And then it was over. It was all so final, nothing else to be done. Ed and his family and Team One walked away, leaving Donna's family to their grief.

Ed asked Sophie to take Clark home before asking Sam and Jules for a ride to the hospital. He wanted to see Greg. When they got there, Greg was sitting up in bed. He was looking a lot better than he had looked the previous night, Ed noticed, although he still looked tired and drawn.

"Hey, Guys," Greg said, glad to see them. "How was it?"

"It was a tough day, Boss," Ed told him.

"You said some really nice things in the church," Jules said to Ed. "Very touching. She would have liked that."

"Thanks," Ed said, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

"How's Hank doing?" Greg asked.

"Heart-broken, as you'd expect," Ed replied. "But he's putting on a brave face."

"I should have been there, Eddie," Greg told him.

"I know, but that wasn't possible now was it?" Ed said, looking at him. "How are you anyway?"

"Damn infection knocked me sideways yesterday, but I'm feeling better today. I just wish they could get on with this surgery so that I can get out of here," Greg told him.

"You do realise that even after the surgery, you won't be getting out of here for a few weeks at least," Jules told him.

"Yeah. Thanks, Jules. Way to cheer a guy up," Greg replied, joking.

"Oh, excuse me if I don't want you rushing your recovery and doing more harm," Jules replied brazenly.

Not long after that, Spike, Leah and Winnie arrived to visit also. Greg was delighted to be surrounded by his entire team. He enjoyed their chat and well wishes even if he did tire easily. Jules was the first to notice how he struggled to stay attentive and how he lay back heavily into his pillows. He barely had the strength to hold his head up. To get them to leave, she suggested that the team go for a drink and toast their fallen comrade, which they each agreed to. Greg bid them farewell and succumbed to exhaustion soon after they left.

It was another couple of days before he was eventually cleared for surgery. Marina and Dean were with him when they took him down to the operating room. Greg was anxious about the surgery. Dr. Lambert had talked him through what she intended to do and outlined what function he could expect to recover. It didn't inspire confidence in him. As he was wheeled in through the theatre doors, he felt a growing sense of doom.

But despite his misgivings, the surgery went relatively well. Greg remained stable throughout. Dr. Lambert reattached and repaired remaining tendons and muscle. When she was finished her part of the operation, the plastic surgeon did some work to try and minimise the inevitably ugly scar.

Greg woke from the anaesthesia to Marina and Dean's smiling faces waiting for him. Relief was written all over them, knowing he had come through another surgery. Despite being reassured beforehand that the surgery was low risk, they couldn't help but worry so when Greg opened his eyes and smiled a bleary smile, they finally relaxed. They were still there when Dr. Lambert arrived to talk to Greg about how the surgery went.

That was how they discovered that Greg's career with SRU was most likely over. They could hardly believe what the doctor was saying. They both watched Greg in shock and awe, waiting to see how he would react to the news. But he was calm and serene and appeared accepting of the diagnosis. Marina argued with the doctor that there must be something else she could do, demanding a second opinion and getting frustrated when told that because of the muscle loss, there was little anyone could do. All the while, Greg remained quiet. Dean watched his father, unsure of how to react. Eventually, Marina got angry at Greg for his apparent lack of interest in his future.

"How can you be so calm?" she demanded. "What's wrong with you?"

Greg sighed and reached for Marina's hand in and effort to calm her. His expression was one of sadness and resignation.

"I knew," he said, trying to retain his composure. "I've known for days. It will be okay. We'll be okay."

"You knew? And you didn't think to tell me?" Marina said, calming down when she saw the pain in her partner's eyes.

"I didn't know how. I had to try and get my head around it first," he admitted.

She came over to him and hugged him, her eyes brimming with tears. She knew how much the job meant to him and sensed how lost he must be feeling.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, kissing him on the top of his head.

After that, the news filtered out through Marina about the severity of Greg's leg wound and what it meant to his career. The first person she called was Ed. She was very emotional on the phone and Ed, knowing that Greg was having surgery that day, feared that something had gone wrong.

"Marina? Is it Greg? What happened?" he asked, his heart plummeting.

"Oh, Ed, I don't know what to do. It's so unfair. He doesn't deserve this," she sobbed.

"Marina, calm down. Tell me what's happened," Ed asked, trying to keep his rising panic at bay.

"His career is over, Ed. The surgeon said that he'd never regain the full range of motion in his leg. I don't know what to do," Marina told him.

Ed was stunned by her words. She must be mistaken, he thought. Initially, there wasn't that much concern about his leg injury, Ed remembered, or so it seemed but then again, they were fighting to keep him alive. He had earlier considered that Greg's injuries might impact his position at SRU, but had hoped that he was wrong. Now his worst fears had been realised. He would never work side by side with his best friend again. He couldn't believe it. He didn't want to.

"How is he taking it?" Ed asked.

"Better than I am," Marina replied. "He won't talk to me about it, Ed. Maybe he's being brave or maybe he's in denial. I don't know, Ed. I'm worried about him. Could you talk to him? He might open up to you?"

"You bet. I'll call over and see him in the morning," Ed promised.

The next morning, true to his word, Ed called in to see Greg. He was sitting up in bed after eating a light breakfast. He looked relaxed and content.

"Hey, Eddie! You're up early," Greg said, as he saw his friend entering.

"On my way to work," Ed told him. "They're drafting in some temps so that Team One can get back on the roster."

"Good. That's good, Eddie. Do you know who you're getting yet?" Greg asked.

"Not yet. Hollaran has the files on his desk. His choice I guess," Ed replied.

There was a pause in the conversation and Greg knew what Ed wanted to talk about.

"You've been talking to Marina?" he asked.

"Yep," Ed replied. "She told me what the doctors said."

"Yeah," Greg said, looking down at his strapped and bandaged leg. "It looks like I'm done, Eddie. Guess it all finally caught up with me."

"Ah, Greg, I don't know what to say," Ed said, easing into the chair close to the bed. "I'm sorry doesn't seem to cover it. Are they sure? I mean, if you give it time, you never know."

"The bullet went right through. It blew away so much muscle that I'm not going to be able to flex my knee properly. They said with physiotherapy I could get seventy, maybe seventy-five percent mobility. If the odds were any better, I'm sure they would have told me," Greg told him.

"So that's it?"

"Looks like it," Greg replied with resignation. "No more hot calls."

"How do you feel about that, or is that a dumb question?" Ed asked.

"How do I feel? Honestly, Eddie, I don't know how I feel. Part of me is angry that this has happened to me, another part of me is glad to be alive. Can you be glad and mad at the same time?" Greg wondered, shaking his head.

"I guess so," Ed replied.

"I haven't really thought too much about it," Greg continued. "I know decisions will have to be made, but right now I just want to get back on my feet and go home. Then I'll make some decisions."

"Don't worry, Buddy, whatever happens, we'll have your back. You know that. Right?"

"I know that, Eddie. I know," Greg replied.

TBC...

**_A/N - again apologies if the medical stuff is inaccurate but I'm winging here so be kind!_**


	10. Chapter 10

**_A/N - Sorry for the delay with this chapter. Its a bit longer than the others. Hope it makes sense._**

Chapter 10

The next few weeks were an emotional rollercoaster for Sergeant Parker. Once his doctor's deemed him strong enough, a physiotherapist began working on his limbs daily while he was still in his bed to help stop muscle wastage. At times the pain in his leg following therapy was so great that he cried himself to sleep at night. He tried not to complain, took his medication telling himself that this was the only way he would get better. He found more and more that his days were filled with discomfort and pain which led him to some dark places.

The first ray of hope was the first day that they allowed him out of his bed as far as the bathroom. Sounds simple, but it was a milestone as far as he was concerned. Then as he grew stronger, he was allowed to take short walks along the corridor with assistance. His family and team could see a great change in him as he convalesced. He regained some of the weight that he had lost, and physically, he appeared to be making progress. He had expected that as he healed, the pain would lessen, but there was little sign of that happening.

His physical therapy continued in earnest as soon as he became accustomed to walking with a crutch. He was still not allowed to put weight on his injured limb, but they exercised the muscle with light weight training. Greg found his recovery tiring and agonisingly slow. as expected, there were good days and bad days. The bad days he tried to hide from his family. They wanted to see him getting better, so that was what he showed them. When they were gone, the veil dropped and he would break down.

One particularly bad day, back in his room having returned from physical therapy, his leg felt like it was on fire. They had given him an ice pack to try and ease the discomfort and he sat on the bed, eyes closed, willing for the agony to pass. When he opened his eyes, he wasn't sure if he was seeing things. Kevin 'Wordy' Wordsworth was standing at the foot of the bed.

"Hey, Sarge," he said, feeling a little uncomfortable at seeing his boss so vulnerable. "Michelle sent you some cookies," he said, raising up a paper plate full of home-baked goodies.

"Wordy, good to see you," Greg said, trying to ignore the pain and extending his hand to shake his friend's. But Wordy wasn't stupid.

"I was going to ask how you were, but I can see for myself," Wordy said, putting the cookies on the table and shaking his hand. "I was actually going to tell you how lucky you were, but I doubt you see it that way right now."

"Damn right," Greg said, through gritted teeth.

"Don't they give you pills for the pain?" Wordy asked, a little surprised at the extent of his former boss's pain.

"Sure, but I think I'm immune at this stage," Greg replied glibly.

"It happens. I'm sorry I didn't come sooner, Sarge," Wordy told him. "I wanted to but, to be honest, I wasn't sure what to say. Ed told me about your leg. That sucks."

"Yeah, that's one way of putting it," Greg replied.

"I do have an idea how you feel though, your body getting in the way of you doing what you love. I do get it, you know, Sarge? If you ever want to talk, I'm available. I've had some dark days since my diagnosis, so I think I know a little of what you're going through. If it gets real bad, you pick up the phone and call me, okay?" Wordy said.

"Thanks, Wordy. I will," Greg replied.

Greg appreciated Wordy's visit and his offer of help, but he was pretty sure he could get through this on his own. He wanted to prove to everyone that he was coping and that he was going to be fine. So, his life was going to change. Change was good, right?

During his recovery, the SRU arranged for a counsellor to visit with him and she got him talking about the trauma and about his fears for the future. Talking helped a little, but from experience, Greg knew what they wanted to hear and he was happy to give them what they wanted. He talked about getting shot, about his mortality, about his family, about his job prospects. He teared up where he thought it was appropriate and was pretty convincing throughout the sessions.

But behind closed doors, when everyone had gone home and he was left in that hospital room with too much time on his hands, his mind took him to morbid places. His pain was still severe, only slightly lessened by his medication. Was this to be his life from now on, he wondered. He would recall his difficulty at standing up unaided, his pain when he tried to lift his leg up one step, his dependency on the crutch. Was this it? Would he now be classed as disabled? Was he a cripple?

What a horrible word; cripple. But that was how he was starting to see himself. Wrap it up and put a bow on it if you like, he thought, but it is what it is. He didn't want to be labelled. He didn't want to be different. He liked his old life. He loved SRU. He loved Marina. He didn't want any of that to change. Would she still want to spend her life with a cripple, he wondered.

These horrible, debilitating thoughts started to creep into his psyche. At first he tried to tell himself that he was being stupid, Marina wasn't that shallow. She loved him; at least she said she loved him. But she fell in love with the man he was, the gun-toting, action man, SRU sergeant. How could she love this limping, scarred, former sergeant destined to life on disability? What could he offer her now? The more he allowed himself to think like that, the more he began to resent what had happened to him. Anger slowly started to gnaw away at him.

The day eventually came when he was told he could go home. He was told that he would still have to attend appointments for physio and pain management, but at least he could go home and sleep in his own bed. Needless to say Dean was delighted that his dad would be coming home. He tidied the apartment up, cleared any obstacles that would make getting around difficult for his dad. Marina did laundry, put clean sheets on the bed and cooked a lovely home-coming meal to make it special. She even got cake. Greg smiled and thanked them for their efforts and maintained his positive front.

For Greg, the reality of coming home, still reliant on a crutch, still in constant pain, was only a reminder of the life he was facing. Marina and Dean fussed about in the kitchen while he was left with his feet up at the TV. When dinner was ready, his son had to help him to his feet and over to the kitchen table. They celebrated the end of two long, harrowing months as though it was all over. But Greg didn't feel much like celebrating. He tried not to be rude, but they could see he wasn't all that happy.

"I'm sorry," he said, eventually getting bored. He still hadn't much appetite. The pain meds upset his stomach most nights. "I'm really tired. You went to so much trouble and dinner was lovely but I think I'll call it a night."

Marina tried not to look as hurt as she felt and brushed it off.

"Of course," she said, getting up from her chair and walking around behind him. "I'll help you."

"No, it's okay. I can do it," Greg insisted, reaching for his crutch and swinging his injured leg out from beneath the table. With the support of the crutch and the table itself, he struggled to his feet and breathed a sigh of relief having managed to stand up straight.

"Dad, do you need help to get changed?" Dean asked.

"No, Son, I can manage," he replied, not really convinced that he could.

He hobbled to his bedroom and closed the door, shutting them and their good intentions out. He hated his dependency on them. He flopped onto the bed and threw the crutches aside. He started to undo his shirt and reached for his t-shirt. He pulled it on then started to undo his pants. He pulled them down but struggled to get them off. The difficulty was getting his injured left leg out. It was bandaged and he was unable to bend his knee very much which made it awkward. He pushed the trousers down as far as he could with his hands, his healing chest wound twinging as he stretched, and then used his right foot to kick them off.

By the time he had managed to get them off, he felt worn out. He pulled himself backwards onto the bed and lay down to rest. He would brush his teeth in a few minutes he decided. As it turned out, he didn't do his teeth at all. He fell into a sound sleep and when he woke, he found that Marina was lying curled up beside him and that she had covered him with a blanket.

He realised that he needed to use the bathroom and didn't want to wake her. He cursed silently when he saw his crutch was thrown over the other side of the room. He sat up and swung his legs out of the bed and put his right leg to the floor. He hopped on one leg, using furnishings for support, until he reached his crutch. He held onto the wall as he bent down for it. That was when Marina woke.

"Greg? What are you doing?" she asked, getting straight up and out of bed. "You should have woken me. Where are you going?"

"I'm fine, Marina, I just need the bathroom," Greg told her.

"Here, let me help you," Marina said, helping Greg straighten up and handing him the crutch.

"You know I can do things for myself," Greg snapped as he opened the bedroom door and walked to the bathroom.

"I just want to help," Marina told him.

"I know. I'm sorry. It's just so frustrating sometimes," Greg replied.

"Okay, message received," Marina said, getting back into bed.

Greg felt like an unappreciative dick by the time he reached the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror and scolded himself. He reminded himself that none of this was her fault. She had been great. She had stuck by him through it all so why was he being an ass? Straighten up, he told himself.

He returned to the bedroom and snuck back into the bed, feeling like a complete tool. Marina lay with her back to him for a few minutes while Greg stared up at the ceiling, not quite knowing how to apologise. A couple of minutes later, Marina rolled over and rested her head on his chest and snuggled into him. He kissed her hair and put his arm around her and they fell back asleep in each other's arms.

Life continued on as Greg recovered slowly. Dean was preparing to graduate and still insisting that he wanted to join the police academy, much to Greg's displeasure. He had been accepted into university and Greg was very proud of that fact. He was a bright boy with a limitless future. Ever since the shooting, Greg had become even more adamant that he should attend college first and then, if he still wanted to, he could join that academy.

Inevitably, this led to tension between father and son. Greg wanted what he felt was best for his son. Dean wanted to be the architect of his own future. There didn't appear to be any middle ground. Marina tried to stay out of it as she felt it was a family decision and she didn't feel like it was her business to interfere. It remained a bone of contention.

The team, meanwhile, was back doing what it did best, albeit with changes. Ed had been asked to step in to Greg's shoes and was promoted to Sergeant. He felt odd about the promotion. It was as if he was profiting from his friend's misfortune and that left him with a sour taste in his mouth. He spoke to Greg about the promotion, but Greg quickly set him straight.

"Eddie, there is no one I would more like to see lead Team One than you," Greg told him. "You know the team. They need you, Eddie. I can't be there for them anymore. I wish I could, but I'll get some consolation knowing that you'll be there."

"Thank you, Boss," Ed said with an ache in his heart. He couldn't imagine not being there.

"I'm not your boss anymore either, Eddie," Greg reminded him. "You be safe out there."

So with Greg's blessing, Ed Lane took over as Sergeant of Team One. There were rumblings from HR that they wanted Sam to be team leader of Team Three. Ed didn't want to lose such an experienced officer, but knew it would be unfair to expect him to stay. He was going to be a dad and he and Jules were buying a house. They needed the money. Then there were the new guys; Steve Davis, a young, confident, greenhorn barely out of the academy. He was top scorer is all fields and had aced the entrance exams, but Ed hoped that he had the street smarts to go with the academic smarts. The second addition was a more mature SRU veteran, Danny Macken, known as Mack to his friends. Ed considered him an asset to the team, having served for fifteen years on the force and having seen plenty of action. He was the sort of guy you wanted watching your back. He would take over as team leader on Team One.

It took a lot of adapting for Team One to get to grips with the changes. Jules was placed on modified duty now that her baby bump was showing. She was riding a desk from now until her maternity leave started. She was a regular visitor to her former boss, checking in on him, making sure he wasn't overdoing it, keeping him company during the often long and lonely days when Dean was in school and Marina in work.

Of all his team, she was the one who was able to see right through him and he knew it. He found it difficult to conceal his growing despondency from her. She tried to talk to him, coax him to seek further counselling but of course, he insisted that he was fine and just needed time to adapt to the changes in his life.

But time marched on and Greg was left feeling more and more isolated. Everyone was busy with their lives, had a purpose and Greg could no longer find his. He wasn't sleeping well. Although the nightmares were less frequent, they still came and haunted his nights.

He would find himself back on that fateful day, pulling up in the SUV outside the Casey Jeffers Building. Donna was inside with Ansen Holt. She was only in there because he had ordered her in there. Then he would relive the awful moment when he realised that it was a trap. He would inevitably yell "Get out of there now!" And he would always jump awake at the exact same spot in the dream, just as the building exploded.

He would wake up sweating, trembling, and remembering that it was his fault that Donna died. Each time the nightmare replayed he was more convinced of it. If he had left her searching for Clark at City Hall she would be alive today. Nothing could make it right.

One particular morning, he got up having experienced another restless night. Marina had stayed in her place that night. Things between her and Greg had become a little strained, mainly because of his mood swings. Greg went into the bathroom to have a shower to try and wash away the perspiration and the painful memories. It was awkward trying to shower and keep his weight off his injured leg, but he managed while holding onto the wall. Feeling better, he reached out for a towel and stepped out of the shower, momentarily forgetting about his leg and putting his weight on it.

Pain ripped up his leg and it went from under him and he came crashing down onto the floor, hitting his head off the sink on the way down. Dean was in the kitchen when he heard the commotion.

"Dad!" he yelled as he ran towards the bathroom.

He opened the unlocked door and found his father sprawled naked and wet on the floor.

"Oh, my God, Dad! Are you okay?" he asked, rushing to his father's aid.

He grabbed the towel from the rail and covered his father's modesty and then helped him into a seated position. It was then he really noticed the scarring for the first time. He had never seen his father's surgical scars before. Greg had tried to hide the ugliness of the scar on his leg from his son, but Dean couldn't help but notice it now. He felt this overwhelming pity for his dad. This once strong, independent man was now lying helpless on the bathroom floor. He could only imagine how it made his dad feel.

"You're bleeding," Dean said, reaching for a face towel and putting it over a gash on Greg's forehead.

"I'm okay," Greg said, taking the towel from his son's hand.

"Let's get you up," Dean said, putting his hands under his father's shoulders and lifting him.

Greg struggled to his feet, totally humiliated having to be helped in this manner by his son. Dean helped him back into his bedroom and onto his bed.

"Let me have a look at that," Dean said, referring to the cut.

"Leave it," Greg snapped.

"It looks deep, Dad," Dean said, a little taken aback by his father's brusque attitude.

"I said leave it," Greg growled.

Dean stood back and looked at his father, who was barely able to look him in the eye. His face was creased in pain and Dean grew worried.

"Maybe I should take you to the hospital," Dean said, refusing to give up. "You might have a concussion or it might to be stitched."

"Dean, I'm fine," Greg insisted. "You're going to be late for school."

Dean hesitated, but could see that his father had no intention of going to the hospital. He realised that there was no point pushing him. He felt sorry for his dad and knew how difficult it must be for him, depending on others. He was reluctant to leave him, but knew that if he stayed off school, his dad would go berserk.

"Okay," Dean replied. "Just take it easy today. Please."

Greg nodded and Dean left him to get dressed. Dean had left the first aid kit beside him. Greg held his head in his hands and began to cry; part of it was pain, part of it was humiliation, part of it was mourning the loss of his old life. Finding a reason to get up in the morning was getting harder each day.

By the time Greg had gathered himself and came out of the room, his son was gone, leaving him feeling awful at having been so curt with Dean. He sat down and looked at the pills that Dean had laid out carefully on the table for him to take. It made him feel even worse. No boy should have to play nurse maid to his dad. Dean hadn't come back to live with him to end up doing this.

That evening, when Dean was coming home, he bumped into Marina who was storming out of their apartment. She was crying.

"Marina? What wrong?" he asked.

"He says that I'm better off without him. Can you believe it? That jerk," she cried. "How could he do this to me, after all we've been through?"

"I'm sure he didn't mean it," Dean said, trying to placate her. "He's been having some bad days lately."

"I know, Dean, and I've made allowances for him, but he keeps pushing me away. I can't keep crawling back so he can knock me down again," she said, wiping her eyes. "Take care of him."

And then she was gone. Dean looked on in disbelief as she got into the elevator and disappeared. He went into the apartment and was ready to have it out with his dad, but seeing him slouched on the couch, red-eyed, changed his mind.

"Hey, Dad," he said, throwing his book bag on the floor. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, sure, I'm hunky dory," Greg replied, his words slurring slightly. "I guess it's just you and me now kid. One washed up police officer and one wannabe. Sucks to be us, right?"

"Dad?" Dean said, completely taken aback.

"Come on, sit down," Greg said, gesturing oddly. "We should talk. I mean really talk….about stuff."

Greg wasn't making much sense and acting very strangely. Dean started to wonder if the bang on the head had been more serious than he suspected. He walked to the kitchen area and something caught his eye on top of the trash bin; a small, but empty, bottle of vodka. He looked over at his dad who had a Coke in front of him.

He suddenly felt sick. It wasn't just Coke. His dad was drunk.

TBC...

_**A/N - I know. How terrible of me! Also, I have no idea what sort of recover time is recommended for such injuries, hence my vagueness. Let me know what you think.**_


	11. Chapter 11

**_A/N -again thanks to all of you for your encouragement. I hope I don't let you down!_**

Previously….

Dean walked to the kitchen area and something caught his eye on top of the trash bin; a small, but empty, bottle of vodka. He looked over at his dad who had what appeared to be a Coke in front of him.

He suddenly felt sick. His dad was drunk.

**Chapter 11**

Dean knew his father didn't drink and he knew there was a reason his father didn't drink. Seeing his bleary-eyed attempts at a conversation just confirmed his fears. Dean marched over and took the Coke from his father.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" Greg shouted.

"You're drunk!" Dean pointed out.

Greg glared at him.

"What's it to ye?" Greg snapped.

"Dad, this is wrong. You've been sober….like, for ever. Why are you doing this?" Dean asked, growing emotional.

"I'm celebrating!" Greg replied. "Celebrating life, Son."

"Dad, come on. I'll make some coffee," Dean suggested.

"You do that," Greg said, reaching for his crutch. "I'm going to bed."

Dean watched as his father wobbled dangerously as he limped to his room. As soon as he was out of earshot, Dean picked up the phone and called Ed.

"Oh, hi, Dean. You looking for Clark?"

"No, Mr. Lane, I need your help," he said nervously.

"Sure, what can I do?"

"It's Dad. He's acting weird. He broke up with Marina and now he.…he's drunk," Dean stammered.

"He's what?" Ed asked in disbelief.

"Drunk," Dean reiterated.

"Ah, jeez," Ed said, scratching his head. "Okay, I'll be right over. Pack a bag. You'll come and stay here tonight."

"I can't leave him alone like this," Dean told him.

"He won't be alone," Ed reassured him.

By the time Ed arrived, Dean was in a bit of a fluster. He had been banging on the door of Greg's bedroom and wasn't getting an answer.

"What's going on?" Ed asked, as Dean returned to the door.

"He's locked the door and I don't know if he's passed out or just ignoring me. He won't open up," Dean explained.

"Greg!" Ed shouted and then listened for an answer. "Greg, Buddy, just let us know you're okay."

"Get lost, Eddie. I don't need you here," Greg replied, making his feelings known.

"Greg, Dean is going to spend the night at my place, okay?" Ed told him.

Greg didn't respond. Ed gave Dean cab fare and the teen reluctantly left Ed to deal with his dad.

"He'll be okay," Ed promised before he left. "I'll straighten him out."

"Thanks," Dean said, as Ed shook his hand and pulled him into a brief man hug.

Once Dean was gone, Ed walked around the apartment. He saw the cola in the glass and sniffed it. He could smell the vodka. He also saw the empty bottle on the top of the waste bin.

"Ah, Greg."

Then he noticed the open bottle of painkillers on the coffee table. He hoped Greg hadn't taken them with the alcohol. He returned to the bedroom door and shouted through it.

"Boss? Greg?"

No answer.

"Aw, come on! It's just you and me now, Greg. Open the door."

Again no reply.

"Greg! I swear, if you don't let me in, I'll break it down," Ed threatened.

Still no sound. Ed was starting to get worried.

"Okay, have it your way," Ed said, standing back and then putting his shoulder to the door. The lock gave relatively easily.

Greg was sprawled on his back on the bed, eyes closed, his crutch strewn on the floor.

"Greg!" Ed cried as panic grew within him.

He knelt on the bed and took Greg's pulse. It was sluggish. He lifted his eyelids and saw his eyes were bloodshot, his pupils constricted.

"Greg, wake up," Ed ordered, slapping his face quite hard. "Come on."

Greg opened his eyes and made an unsuccessful attempt to focus. As he did, Ed sat him upright.

"How many did you take, Boss?" Ed asked.

Greg just looked at him with a confused expression on his face.

"Painkillers, Greg. How many?"

"A few. My leg was killing me. Hey, it's not anymore," Greg scoffed with a stupid smile on his face.

"No, you idiot. Of course it's not," Ed said angrily. "Get up. Come on, up!"

Ed hauled Greg to his feet, put his arm over his shoulder and helped him to the bathroom.

"You gotta throw up, Greg. Booze and pills….not a good combination. What were you thinking? You stupid…..," Ed said, biting his tongue while manoeuvring him awkwardly into the bathroom. "Come on, in you go."

"Leave me alone," Greg muttered as Ed led him to the bathroom. "I'm tired, Eddie."

"I know you are, Greg, but it's either in here or the emergency room," Ed told him.

Greg still wasn't sure what all the fuss was about. His mind was clouded courtesy of the alcohol and prescription pill combination.

"Fingers down your throat or else I'll do it for you," Ed insisted.

He stood over his friend as he sat on the bathroom floor and forced himself to vomit. Much to Ed's relief, it worked and Greg began to throw up and once he started, he continued heaving until his stomach was empty and he was dry-retching. Greg then started to tremble and Ed could feel the tremors wrack his body as he held him.

When Ed was convinced that he wasn't going to be sick any more, he helped him back to the bedroom and put him into bed. Greg was still drowsy and wiped-out.

"What are you doing here?" Greg asked, as Ed leaned over and covered him.

Ed didn't reply. He was seething.

"Thanks, Buddy," Greg said, blearily.

"Sleep it off, Greg," Ed growled.

He went out to the kitchen and opened Greg's refrigerator and took out a bottle of water. He should get Greg to drink it, he thought, and returned to the bedroom.

"Hey, Boss. Drink this," Ed said, putting his hand behind Greg's head and raising him. "You'll thank me in the morning."

Greg drank as much as he could stomach and lay back down and closed his eyes. Ed watched Greg sleep, his anger eventually turning to pity for his friend. Life had dealt him such a cruel blow and Ed felt bad for expecting him to take it on the chin and get on as though it has never happened. He knew Greg was strong and had presumed that he was coping well. How wrong he was. As Greg slept, Ed went out to the living area and checked the cupboards for booze. He doubted that there was only one in the house. He checked all the likely hiding places and the unlikely ones too, but couldn't find any more.

Later that night, Ed called Dean just to let him know that his dad was okay. Once he'd hung up, he returned to the bedroom to keep an eye on Greg while he slept. He was worried that he might vomit again in his sleep and choke. So he maintained his vigil the whole night.

When Greg woke the next morning, he was more than a little surprised to find that he was looking at the back of a bald head. He wondered why Ed Lane was asleep on the other side of his bed. Greg's head was pounding and he had a vague recollection of what had happened the previous night. He rolled over onto his other side. The movement on the mattress woke Ed.

"Greg, you okay, Buddy?" he asked, jumping up.

"Been better," Greg mumbled in reply.

"I bet," Ed agreed as he got off the bed.

"What time is it?" Greg asked.

Ed looked at his watch.

"Almost 7am," he told him.

"Oh, man," Greg groaned, as his head pounded. "Have you been here all night?"

"Yep."

"Thanks, Eddie," Greg told him. "You should probably get going. You're working today, right?"

"I'll be calling in sick," Ed told him. "I'm not leaving you alone after last night."

"What do you mean 'after last night'?" Greg asked sounding a little confused.

"Well, let's see. The booze – yeah, that concerned me, but mixing the booze with the pain meds, now that really has me worried. I spent all of last night wondering if my best friend had tried to kill himself," Ed told him. "So, maybe you could tell me WHAT THE HELL YOU WERE THINKING?" he yelled.

Greg was taken aback by Ed's rage.

"And in front of your boy!" Ed continued. "You selfish son of a b…..." he bit back the word.

"I'm sorry, Eddie," Greg managed shamefully.

"Sorry? Well, that makes it all right then," Ed replied sarcastically.

"Ed, I'm not sure what happened, but I didn't try to….you know. I swear. I was in pain. I had to make it stop. The meds weren't helping so I had a drink. I guess I had more than one," Greg explained.

"More than one? Greg, I found an empty bottle in the trash. When I found you, you were close to losing consciousness. Do you even remember me making you get sick in the bathroom?"

Greg sat up on the edge of the bed and hung his head in shame. He vaguely remembered being in the bathroom and getting sick, but had no recollection of getting back to bed. He felt mortified and ashamed. He had been weak. He had been given the vodka as a gift from one of his neighbours for helping him out over a year ago. The neighbour was oblivious to his battle with the demon drink and was just innocently trying to thank him. Greg knew he should never have kept it.

"I'm sorry," Greg said once more.

He didn't know what else to say.

"Let's get you in the shower," Ed said, taking his friend by the elbow and guiding him to his feet.

Greg didn't argue. He barely spoke. He knew he had reached rock bottom. After he had showered and dressed, Ed made him sit down for breakfast. Greg turned away from the plate of eggs the Ed put down in front of him on the table. He was feeling pretty rough.

"You get them down you," Ed said, quite insistent.

Greg tried and managed to eat a little. He sipped his coffee in silence as Ed ate breakfast beside him.

"I should call Dean," Greg said, breaking the silence.

"He'll be on his way to school," Ed pointed out.

"Oh, yeah, of course," Greg said, quietly. "Did you call Marina?"

"Nope," Ed replied. "I think you've put that poor woman through enough, don't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Jeez, Greg, you really have no clue, do you? You blew it, Buddy. She's head over heels in love with you, Dumbass, and you went and told her that she would be better off without you," Ed informed him. "Way to go!"

Greg exhaled deeply and closed his eyes, shaking his head. What had he done? What in God's name had he done?

"Right, if you're ready, we'll go," Ed said, standing up and putting his plate in the sink.

"Go? Where are we going?"

"An AA meeting. There's one at 10am in Bloor Street. I'll get your coat," Ed told him.

"I don't know, Eddie. I'm not sure I'm up to it just yet," Greg replied.

Ed looked at him, surprised and disappointed at his reluctance to go.

"Greg, when was the last time you left this apartment?" Ed asked him.

"Eh, I don't know. A couple of weeks, maybe?"

"God, Greg, you need to get back out there. Live again. You survived, remember?" Ed reminded him.

"Ha!" Greg laughed. "Survived. You say it like it's a good thing. It's not all it's cracked up to be, Eddie. My life? Here's a taste of my life; I see Donna's face every time I close my eyes, the pain in my leg never lets up, I have no energy, I've lost my job- my way of life, my seventeen year old son had to pick me up off the bathroom floor yesterday, for Christ's sake. It sucks," Greg told him, with tears of frustration welling up in his eyes. "Sometimes, I wish I didn't survive."

As he said that he looked into Ed's eyes. He saw shock and disappointment flash in those eyes and felt a sense of shame for what he had said. So many people hadn't survived that day. He turned away and stared at the table top, feeling guilty.

Ed, on the other hand, had no idea that Greg felt that way. How could he be so blind and not see what was in front of him? The impact of Greg's shooting had left more than physical scars. He felt guilty for not noticing how much Greg was struggling. He had visited with Greg and they had talked so many times, but like most men, they never really discussed anything of weight. It was usually the Maple Leafs, the boys or work.

He felt as though he had failed his friend. He decided on the spot that he would not let him down again. If his friend needed him, he would be there, no matter how long it took. Ed walked into the hallway and made a quick call to work to inform them that he was ill. He didn't mention Greg, knowing that he wouldn't want the team to know what had happened.

He walked back out with Greg's coat in his hand and threw it at him.

"Let's go," he said enthusiastically.

Greg looked at him for a second, then put the coat on, reached for his crutch and got awkwardly to his feet. Ed didn't hang around or offer to help him. He was going to have to be tough on his former boss to get him through this, no matter how hard it was. Sometimes you had to be cruel to be kind.

To be continued...


	12. Chapter 12

_**A/N - thanks to all of you who review religiously. You rock! Also to those of you who have PM turned off and I can't thank you individually, a BIG thanks to you too. **_

**Chapter 12**

At SRU headquarters, Spike was leaning over the desk top flirting shamelessly with Winnie when she took the call from Ed. Spike couldn't help but overhear the conversation.

"Ed's sick?" Spike asked after she hung up.

"So he says," Winnie replied with a shoulder shrug, not entirely convinced.

"I'm pretty sure the only time Ed Lane called in sick before was after he was shot," Spike pointed out.

"I know. I hope everything's okay," Winnie said, realising how unusual it was.

She made the required call to HR who would have to re-arrange the team command for the day. When the news filtered through, the rest of the team also expressed concern when they heard that Ed wasn't coming in. They couldn't remember a time when Ed hadn't turned up for work before.

But they didn't have time to wonder for long, when a hot call came in. Danny Macken, their new team leader, stepped up to the plate and took charge in Ed's absence. Another day, another case.

As Ed drove towards the AA meeting in Bloor Street, Greg stared silently out the window as the grey buildings whizzed by. With Ed at the wheel, Greg had a sense, if only for a second, of being back on the job, an air of anticipation of what was ahead. As if he could read his mind, Ed commented;

"Just like old times, eh?"

Greg nodded despondently. There was another silence.

"Look, Greg, I'm sorry."

Greg turned and looked curiously at his friend.

"I should have seen what you were going through," Ed said, keeping his eyes on the road. "I don't know, maybe I was trying to convince myself that I was fine and so you were fine. We came so close to losing you, Greg, and that's not something I ever want to go through again. But the way you fought back and came through it, I thought it was all going to be okay, you know?"

Ed glanced briefly at Greg, who nodded in response.

"Everything around us changed, but you were okay and Clark was okay and that was all that mattered as far as I was concerned. You had Marina and that seemed to be going great so I backed away to give you guys space. I now realise that I shouldn't have, Greg. I let you down. I'm sorry."

Greg absorbed Ed's words and he felt even worse.

"Ed, Buddy, none of this is your fault," Greg told him. "You're not responsible for me. It's not like you handed me the vodka. I'm a big boy, Eddie, and I messed up all by myself. I didn't want anyone to know I was struggling. I'd put you all through so much already, I didn't want you to have to worry about me anymore. I guess I shut you out. It was stupid..…so stupid."

Greg felt a lump in his throat. It was so hard to let his friend see him at this low point in his life.

"But I could do with your help now, Buddy."

"You got it, Greg, you know you do," Ed replied, turning towards him. "We'll get through this. And this is step one."

"Okay," Greg said, taking a deep bracing breath. The first step is admitting that you've got a problem, he remembered. Done!

They arrived at the building on Bloor Street and followed the signs for the AA meeting. They both paused outside the door. Greg turned to Ed.

"You coming in?" he asked, hoping the answer was yes.

"On your six, Buddy," Ed said, holding the door ajar so Greg could get through.

They stayed for the whole meeting. Greg chose not to speak that first day. Ed didn't pressure him. He wanted Greg to have some control over his life, even if this was just a small thing. It became obvious to Ed that while sitting there Greg was in considerable discomfort, as he observed how he grasped his injured thigh several times throughout the meeting. Sometimes he would close his eyes, hoping to shut out the pain. Ed hated seeing his friend suffering so much.

When they got back to the car, Ed asked him about the pain and Greg admitted that he was suffering. Wondering if he was due more pain meds, Greg told him not until after lunch. That was hours away, Ed realised. He was starting to see how difficult it must be for his friend on a daily basis. As they drove, Greg noticed that they were taking a different route home.

"Taking the scenic route, Eddie?" Greg asked.

"Not exactly," Ed said, as they rounded a bend before turning off the main road.

In front of them stood the cast iron gates and yew-lined avenue of the city cemetery. Greg's heart started to speed up as Ed turned into the graveyard and he realised why they were there.

"It's time you faced your demons, Greg. I know you haven't accepted what happened to her. You didn't get to mourn her properly, but burying it deep will only drive you mad," Ed said as he parked the car. "I've been coming here once a week or so since it happened. It helps me."

"I'm not sure I can do this, Eddie," Greg said, as Ed got out of the car and walked around to open the passenger door.

"You don't have to _do_ anything. Just visit. It's peaceful. I'll show you where and leave you alone for a while," Ed told him.

Greg got out of the car with Ed's assistance and he followed Ed's lead to a simple marble headstone in the shadow of a wide evergreen.

Donna Sabine Gerald.

04/23/1971 – 12/06/2012.

Beloved wife and daughter.

Fallen in the line of duty. Rest In Peace.

Greg stood in front and read the words. The earth still hadn't settled over the grave and a low mound of raised earth remained. Grass was starting to cover the soil and fresh flowers adorned the site. Ed touched the headstone then walked away, leaving Greg to face this reality. Tears welled in Greg's eyes as he remembered his and Donna's final exchanges before the explosion. His head hung low and he sniffled loudly. The pain of her loss was very raw to him. Had it really been over four months?

"Forgive me, Donna," he whispered as he stepped closer. "I'm so sorry. This shouldn't have happened to you. I should have known it was a trap. I should have seen it. I wish I could, but there's nothing I can do anything to make it right, Donna. God help me, I can't."

He broke down and cried. Standing alone at her graveside, his shoulders shook as he let out his pent up emotions. Tears traced down his face and found the earth. Then he felt the warmth of the noon sun as it broke through the evergreens and lit his face. He looked around and for the first time noticed what a beautiful spring afternoon it was. A light breeze rustled through the trees. Birdsong broke the inevitable deathly silence. He realised that even without his beautiful colleague, the world kept on spinning. Spring would inevitably turn into summer and life would go on, however unfair it seemed.

He stood at the graveside for an age, so much so that Ed eventually had to come looking for him.

"Are you ready to go, Boss?" he asked after waiting in the car for almost an hour.

Greg nodded and turned around, stumbling as he did so and almost coming down. Luckily, Ed's reactions were quick and he caught his arm and steadied him.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Greg sniffled and wiped the tear stains with his sleeve.

"A bit tired, Ed. Take me home," he said, as Ed helped him to the car.

By the time they got back to Greg's apartment, Greg was only fit for bed. Ed helped him in and lay him down.

"Eddie," Greg said, as Ed was about to sneak out the bedroom door.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"Get some rest, Boss," Ed said. "I'll order us some food later."

While Greg slept, Ed made a call to the hospital and left a message for Dr. Lambert, asking her to call him back. He made some coffee, then called Sophie and filled her in on what had been going on, checking with her if she minded if he stayed another night with Greg. She was very understanding and knew what an important part Greg played in her husband's life. Needless to say, she didn't object. Not long after he hung up, Dr. Lambert called back.

"Sergeant Lane? I got your message. What can I do for you?" she asked.

"It's Greg Parker. He's not doing so well and I'm very worried about him. There doesn't seem to be any improvement in his pain, Doc. It was so bad that he almost OD'd last night trying to cope with it. There must be something else you can do for him," Ed said emotionally.

"I had no idea his pain was so severe. Why didn't he come to me?"

"I've no idea. He's the type of guy who doesn't want to be a bother, but this is serious," Ed told her. "He's falling apart."

"Typical law enforcement patient," Dr. Lambert said. "I see it all the time. It's like they feel like they don't have the right to be human or to admit that they're not supermen. Chronic pain is very debilitating, Sergeant Lane, and can lead to depression. Can you get him to my clinic tomorrow morning? I would still expect some degree of pain from such an injury as he suffered, but from what you're describing, it should not be as acute at this stage in his recovery. I will get a Neuro Consultant to examine the injury site. If there is further nerve injury, we have options. Until we can examine him, I can't be sure."

"Okay, I'll have him there. 9am?" Ed suggested.

"Let me check," she said, putting Ed on hold momentarily. "That's good for me. I'll see you then."

By the time Greg woke, Dean had returned home from school. He was sitting in the living room, smiling and chatting with Ed, when Greg hobbled out of the room. He hesitated when he saw his son, unsure of what to say to him after the previous night.

Dean turned and saw his dad standing there. He stood up and walked over to him. Standing face to face, without a word, Dean just put his arms around him and hugged him tightly.

"I was so worried about you," Dean said, as he released the embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Son. I swear, that will never happen again," Greg promised. "I messed up."

"It's okay. Ed explained everything. Come on. Sit," Dean said, guiding his father to the sofa. "We ordered Chinese food. So, do you want the Kung Pao chicken or Chow Mein?"

Greg threw an appreciative look to Ed, who nodded an acknowledgement.

"Kung Pao," Greg replied.

Dean got a plate and dished it out. They ate greedily and put the TV on. It was as if the previous night had never happened. After the food, as Dean cleared away the plates, Ed played nurse again, dishing out Greg's prescribed medication.

"By the way, Dr. Lambert wants to see you first thing in the morning," Ed told him.

"She does?"

"I called her and told her about the pain you were in. Why didn't you tell her about it at your last check up?"

"I didn't want to be put on more pills. As it is, I'm pretty sure I rattle every time I stand up," Greg joked. Ed smiled, but shook his head.

"She said there is more than likely something they can do. She's going to get a Neurologist to check you over," Ed told him.

"Okay then. I'll be there."

"I know you will," Ed replied. "I'm taking you."

"You don't have to. I've already caused you enough trouble."

"Yeah, you have," Ed joked. "And it's not like I ever caused you trouble over the years."

"Okay, Buddy, I get it," Greg said, smiling. "I give up."

Later that evening, the three lads were watching a hockey match on TV when the doorbell rang. Ed opened it and a heavily pregnant Jules and Sam were standing there.

"Ed?" Jules said, surprised to see him there. "I heard you were sick."

"If anyone asks, I still am," Ed said, inviting them in.

"Is something wrong?" Jules asked, sensing that something was wrong.

"Nothing," Ed said, unable to look her in the eye. "He just needed someone."

Jules didn't push as it was obvious that whatever happened had been dealt with.

"Hey, you two! Come on in," Greg called from the sofa.

He hopped to his feet and kissed Jules and gave Sam a quick hug.

"Look at you," Greg said, as Jules attempted to manoeuvre into an armchair.

"I feel like a whale, Boss," Jules told him.

"You look radiant," Greg reassured her. "How long to go?"

"Just another 8 weeks or so," Jules told him.

"That's great. Just great," Greg said, genuinely happy for the couple.

"We have news," Jules told him, smiling up at her husband, hinting at him to tell them.

"Yeah?"

"We put a down payment on a house today," Sam told them.

"Hey, that's great," Ed and Greg replied almost simultaneously.

"We think so. It's just perfect. Three bedrooms and a small back yard for junior," Jules told them as she rubbed her bump.

They sat and discussed the house, their commute to work, what would happen after the baby came in terms of Jules returning to work. Greg found the discussion of such normal, everyday things a welcome distraction. It took his mind off his own problems, if only for a short while.

Sam then broke the other news that he had officially been offered the position as Team Leader on Team Three and that he had accepted. Ed had known it was coming and acted delighted for the dad-to-be and joined Greg in wishing him well, but deep down was disappointed to be losing another member of his team. Team One was never going to be the same. It was going to take a lot of getting used to, Ed realised; no Greg, no Sam, maybe no Jules, depending on her decision after the birth of her child. The new guys were good guys, Ed conceded, but they weren't family, yet. As Ed saw it, his family was being torn apart and that was the hardest thing for him. He was going to have to adapt to the changes in his life also, just as Greg would have to.

To be continued...

_**A/N - obviously I only guessed at Donna's birthday, age, etc. Sorry the chapter is short. Next chapter will fast forward another little bit.**_


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N - sorry for the delay. Struggled with this chapter which will probably be obvious. Hope its okay._

**Chapter 13**

The next morning, Ed ensured that Greg was up and ready to go to the hospital. He had risen early, made breakfast and even made a packed lunch for Dean. Dean was impressed and teased that he'd make a good housewife. Ed laughed it off. He was a man on a mission; his goal – to get his friend well again.

Greg appeared in better form that morning. He was more willing to engage in conversation, recalling the visit from the Braddocks the previous evening and the conversation that took place.

"Did you know about Spike and Winnie?" Greg asked Ed, bringing back up a subject that Jules had mentioned in passing last night.

"Yeah, well sorta. I mean, they appear to be getting closer, if that's what you mean. Spike has never made any big announcement. Neither has Winnie. I'm not one for that lovey dovey stuff you know," Ed smirked.

"You said it, Buddy," Greg laughed, as Ed drove towards the hospital.

As they drove, Greg's mind wandered from Spike and Winnie's young love to his own love life and Marina. He missed her. He had tried to call her but she wasn't answering. He couldn't exactly remember what he had said to her that disastrous night, but knew it must have been bad for her to walk out and not get back in touch. It was a night he had already grown to regret. With Ed's help he was trying so hard to get back on top of life and set things straight. But with Marina, he knew he would have to do it by himself. He was going to have to think long and hard about how best to approach it. He wanted her back and hoped she would take a chance on him again.

When they arrived at the hospital, Greg went in to the appointment with Dr. Lambert alone, Ed opting to wait outside the office. Dr. Lambert had invited another colleague to meet with Greg and they examined the wound on his leg. It became clear to them that the best possible explanation for his pain was nerve damage. The other doctor, Charles Sandford, thought they should consider a nerve graft, which would help give Greg back some more feeling and control of the lower limb, as well as help manage the pain. Greg had hoped to avoid another surgery, but agreed that the better long term solution to the issue of pain was another surgery. The doctors reassured him that it would be a technical, but minor, procedure and that he would be only kept in hospital a day or two.

Greg accepted their diagnosis and agreed to attend the hospital the following week for the surgery. He was feeling positive about the whole thing when he came out of the meeting and told Ed.

The week passed quickly and the day of the surgery arrived. By then, Greg was feeling a little apprehensive about staying in hospital and going under the knife once more. But he had Dean and Ed and the rest of his SRU family queuing up to support him.

It was around that time that Jules happened to call Marina. She pretended that it was a social call, asked how she was and wondering if everything was all right, especially since she hadn't seen her over at Greg's in a while. It was only then that Marina realised that Jules was unaware that she and Greg had broken up.

She told Jules the story of how distant Greg had become and that he had insisted on pushing her away, despite her efforts to convince him that she wanted to be there for him. She opened up to Jules and told her how devastated she was that it had ended. She hadn't returned his calls because she wasn't ready to forgive him yet.

Jules had no real explanation for Marina. All she was able to tell her was that Greg was going through a hard time and that Ed had been staying with him to help him through it. Marina then told Jules that she suspected that the night they finally broke up that Greg was drunk. On hearing this, everything started to fall into place for Jules. It made sense. Why else would Ed be keeping such a close eye on their former boss? Ed was worried about him, she had seen that first hand, but now the pieces were starting to fit.

The boss wasn't handling what had happened to him as well as she had thought. She couldn't believe that she hadn't seen it. And she knew why. Greg, as usual, put other people ahead of himself and this time he was thinking of her and her baby. Of course he wouldn't want to burden her with what he saw as the trivialities of his struggles. That wasn't the sort of guy he was. She felt like she should have noticed what he was doing, seen the wall that he had erected around himself. She was annoyed at herself for being so blinkered by the joy in her own life to notice what was happening to him.

Marina asked her how Greg was and Jules mentioned that he was back in hospital. When she heard this, Marina was immediately overcome with concern.

"Oh my God! Is he okay? What happened?" she asked.

"Yes, he's fine. He's having another surgery on his leg. The pain was getting too much for him and he wasn't coping so they're trying an alternative technique which will hopefully give him some relief," Jules told her.

"Thank God," Marina said, sounding relieved. "I thought…"

"He'll be fine," Jules reassured her. "I'm sure he'd like to see you though," she dropped in, hoping Marina might pay him a visit.

"Oh, I don't know, Jules. It's not easy, you know? I feel like…..I don't know what I feel anymore," Marina admitted.

"That's understandable," Jules said, ever the diplomat. "But I know he misses you. Maybe if you talked…..?"

"Maybe," Marina said. She thanked Jules calling and promised to think about it..

Later that day, Greg came through the surgery and woke to find Jules at his bedside. He was lying propped up with pillows and his left leg raised slightly.

"Hey, Jules," he said, trying to clear the fog from his mind.

"Hey, Sarge," she said, reaching out and taking his hand. "It's all over. They said it went well," she told him.

"Good news," he said, tiredly.

"I talked to Marina this morning," she told him.

Greg looked at her, gobsmacked. He wasn't sure what she was going to say next.

"She told me you were drunk when you broke up with her," Jules continued, her frown portraying her irritation. "You're drinking again?"

"I did, that night, but Eddie came over and he picked me back up," he told her. "I slipped that one night and I regret it, but I haven't had a drink since, I swear."

"You swear?" Jules asked seriously.

"I swear, Jules. One night and it ruined the best thing I had going in my life," Greg told her.

Jules looked into his eyes and could see he meant every word. He hurt inside. Once again he had suffered the self-destructive consequences of his alcoholism. She felt so sorry for him. In a matter of months, he had gone from hero to villain. He was such a good person and there was no way he deserved to be going through this. She considered phoning Marina again, pleading with her, but decided against it. Maybe she should just let nature take its course, but a nudge in the right direction couldn't hurt.

"Maybe you should try call her?" Jules suggested innocently.

"I've tried. She won't pick up. I blew it this time, Jules. I really blew it," Greg admitted humbly.

"Come on, Sarge. It's not like you to give up so easily," Jules said, trying to encourage him. "Maybe when you get out of here, you could go see her."

Greg just looked at her and she could tell how badly he wanted to make it right with Marina, but could see he was scared. She could appreciate his hesitance. He had already suffered so much. Opening his heart up to risk having it shattered was a terrifying prospect.

She wasn't sure what she could do to help them out. Maybe it wasn't her place, she considered. She eventually left, feeling helpless, unsure what she could do or should do.

Later that evening, Greg was dozing on his bed having nodded off. A book lay open and rested on his chest where it fell when he dropped off. When he opened his eyes, he thought he was dreaming. Sitting in the chair, that Jules had vacated earlier, was Marina. He did a double take to confirm that his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. Then she smiled at him.

"Hi, Greg."

"Hi," he said, his mouth agape. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Jules told me you were back in hospital. I just wanted to check that you were okay," Marina replied.

"Oh," he sighed. "I'm fine. Just more surgery on my leg. Hopefully it will help with the pain."

"I hope so too," Marina told him.

There was a slight awkwardness when the conversation dried up. Greg saw this as his opportunity.

"Marina, I owe you an apology," Greg said, desperately wanting to hold her hand but she was keeping a distance between them.

"No, Greg, don't."

"Please, Marina, let me do this," Greg asked. "I was right. You do deserve better than me. I treated you terribly. In my own twisted way, I thought I was protecting you. The thing is, Marina, you're the best thing that has happened to me in years."

Marina's face revealed a slight smile.

"If it wasn't for you, I would never have gotten through all this. I know its selfish, but I need you, Marina. I was hoping that you might find it in your heart to forgive me."

There was a pointed silence for a few moments.

"Greg Parker, you're an idiot, you know that?" she asked, playfully slapping his arm. Then she took hold of his hand. "Can't you tell that I love you? What does a girl have to do any more? When you pushed me away, I was devastated. You broke my heart."

"Oh, God, Marina, I'm so sorry. I wasn't myself," he told her.

"I know that, Greg. You weren't. You were drunk. That much was obvious. I'd never seen you that way before, Greg. It scared me."

"I'm getting help," he told her. "Ed is making sure I go to meetings. I slipped up. There are no excuses, but I had lived sober for ten years up to then. I can do it again."

"I know you can," she said, raising his hand and placing a tender kiss on the back of it. "But you have to let me help you. I want to be there for you. That's what love is and I love you, you fool."

"Come here," he said, pulling her gently towards him.

They kissed passionately, their embrace lingering. When he released her, he told her that he loved her too and he promised her that he would let her in. He desperately wanted her to be part of his life, no matter what that life would hold.

TBC

**_A/N - again, medical stuff made up so don't crucify me for that. There will only be a couple more chapters to wrap this one up. _**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N - Nearly there folks. Thanks for your reviews. I'm forever grateful. **

**Chapter 14**

The next couple of weeks showed a positive improvement in Greg's recovery. The second surgery had worked exactly as hoped and it made his life that bit more bearable. While he still suffered the lingering effects of his injuries, his outlook was much more optimistic. He could now cope with the pain, with the aid of some medication and other therapies. His attitude had also changed, thanks in no small may to Eddie and Marina constant reassurances and encouragement. They reminded him that he still had a lot to offer society and that there was a future to be had outside of SRU.

As Greg's health improved and summer approached, his former team decided it was time to have another Team One family picnic. It was to be an event to celebrate healing, both physically and mentally. The trauma of the bombings had affected everyone, some more than others, but no one was left untouched. And naturally, everyone had their own way of dealing with it. The picnic was to remind them that while their SRU family had changed, that they were still a family, no matter what. Bonds that strong would not be broken.

The picnic took place on the shore of Lake Ontario. The heat was starting to grow as the season progressed and the early summer sun shone and twinkled on the lake. Everyone was in good spirits when Greg, Marina and Dean arrived and his former team mates cheered and clapped when he stepped out of his new car. He had changed his car, purchased an automatic, which gave him more of his life back. Independence was important to him. The greeting from his team was unexpected and he found it very touching. For a moment, he thought he would break down. As he took a deep breath, Marina came around by his side and linked him as they walked over to the gang. Greg leaned on his new cane as he navigated the grassy path. Dean was left to carry the basket of food and the drinks cooler.

Greg was delighted to be among his other family. It felt great to see them all. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen them, he just hadn't seen them all together in a long while. Jules sat at a picnic table most of the time as she was due to give birth any day now. Sam, as ever, was hovering around her, ensuring that she was comfortable and well fed. Leah had brought her new boyfriend, a paramedic who she met the day of the bombing. She seemed happy, Greg noted. Wordy arrived with Shelly and the kids. When Greg spotted Spike and Winnie holding hands, he couldn't resist commenting.

"Hey, you two," he said, theatrically. "What's all this?" he asked, referring to the touchy, feely scene.

"Eh, hey, Boss," Spike said, shaking his friend's hand and feeling a little embarrassed.

"So, a little bird tells me that you two have finally got your act together," he said, pulling Spike into a hug and slapping his back.

"Well, yeah," Spike said, unable to hide his smile. "She finally saw sense," Spike joked.

"Hey!" Winnie said, punching him playfully in the arm.

"I'm happy for you both," Greg said, hugging Winnie. "I really am."

"Thanks, Boss," Spike said, appreciating his boss's approval.

"You look good," Winnie said as they strolled back towards one of the picnic tables where the food was laid out.

"I feel good, Winnie," Greg replied. "I won't lie and say it hasn't been tough, but I've got good people looking out for me. If it wasn't for you all, I don't know where I'd be."

Winnie smiled at him, letting him know that she understood his struggle. They rejoined the group. As Greg chatted and caught up with his friends, Dean and Clark wandered off and were huddled and whispering together.

"So, did you tell him?" Clark asked.

"I haven't found the right time," Dean replied.

"Jeez, Dean, you have to tell him before someone else does," Clark advised.

"I know. It's just, I know he'll be mad," Dean explained.

"Well, think how mad he'll be if my dad lets it slip," Clark told him.

"Ah, hell!" Dean groaned.

"Dean, just do it. Maybe he won't be as mad as you think?" Clark suggested.

"Okay, okay, I'll do it."

So Dean watched for a while as his father mingled and waited patiently until he was alone. Then he summoned the courage to break the news to him.

"Dad," he said a little awkwardly.

"Hey, are you having fun?" Greg asked.

"What? Oh, yeah, sure," Dean replied. "Eh, Dad, I need to tell you something."

"Sure. Should I be sitting down?" Greg asked, half joking, unsure what was to come.

"Maybe," Dean replied.

"What did you do?" Greg asked with a sigh.

"It's nothing bad. I'm just now sure you'll see it that way."

Greg just looked at him, a furrow developing on his brow.

"I made my application to the academy," Dean blurted out before waiting for the backlash.

Greg looked at his son and watched his face. He could see he was nervous.

"Is this what you really want?" Greg asked.

"Yeah, Dad, more than anything," Dean replied.

"Okay then," Greg said, a swell of pride growing within him. "In the last few months you've seen what this job can do to people. It can be the greatest job in the world, but also the toughest. I won't stand in your way, Son. I just want you to be sure. "

"I am," Dean insisted. "This is in my blood, Dad. I'm sure."

Greg put his arms around his son and hugged him tightly.

"All I can do is wish you luck then, Son," he said, squeezing him. "I'm proud of you, you know that right?"

Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing; his dad…proud of him. Not the reaction he had expected, but he was relieved and delighted to see that his father had accepted his decision.

The picnic turned out to be a perfect day. It was as if Team One had never been apart. And while Greg felt a little pang in his heart for what was no more, he also felt joy for what had been and what was to come. He watched from a distance as his son chatted to Spike and Winnie and saw the future of the police department and SRU. He watched proudly as son talked excitedly to Spike about the academy and how much he was looking forward to it.

Marina remained by Greg's side the whole day. As evening fell, they took a romantic walk along the lake shore. For the first time in a long time, Greg felt a lucky man. He could have lost her because of his own stupidity. She had given him a second chance. He was still trying to figure out why, but he wasn't going to waste it.

Two weeks later, Greg was sitting alone in his apartment. Dean was out with friends, Marina working. He had decided to look for a new job or at least see what options were out there for him. He hadn't officially quit the SRU and was still out on sick pay, but he knew the inevitable was only around the corner. He wanted to be prepared.

As he checked websites online, his cell phone rang.

"Sarge?

"Hi Jules," he said, glad to hear from her. "How are you?"

"Oh, okay," she said, panting slightly. "I could do with a ride to the hospital though."

"What? " Greg asked, surprised and slightly panicky.

"Yeah, I'm in labour and I can't get hold of Sam," she told him calmly.

"Where is he?" Greg asked.

"He can't be reached. The team are on a call. I've left a message and I'm sure he'll call as soon as he gets it," Jules said, sounding very understanding. "I just don't think I can wait that long."

"No, of course not. I'm on my way," Greg said, grabbing his cane, car keys and jacket. "Breathe, okay."

"I'm fine, Greg. Don't panic. I've plenty of time," she said, sensing that he would be flustered and a little freaked by the call.

Greg drove at speed towards Jules house. She was waiting in the living room, overnight bag ready in the hallway. She was excited and nervous at the same time although totally calm and in control. As Greg drove, she would occasionally take deep deliberate breaths as each labour pain hit her. Greg couldn't help but breathe through it with her.

"They're pretty close together," he commented as they neared the hospital.

"Yeah," she replied. "I waited as long as I could."

When they got to the hospital, Greg checked her in and helped her settle into her room. She asked him to wait with her until Sam arrived and he was only too glad to oblige. Greg waited but excused himself an hour later and called Winnie to find out about the call Team Three were on. She told him that it was a robbery gone wrong and that hostages had been taken. Negotiations were taking place. She had no idea who long this was going to take. She told him that there was the added complication that one of Sam's team members was among the hostages.

Greg knew that this could drag on and he told Winnie about Jules and asked that she get a message to Sam. However, he knew that as Team Leader, Sam would not leave his team when they needed him most. All he could do was hope for Jules' sake that the baby didn't arrive until the drama was over.

When he returned to the room, Jules could tell by his face that something was going on.

"Sarge?" she asked, as he sat down beside her.

"He could be a while," he told her.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

"Yeah. I spoke to Winnie. He's just busy. Team Leader is a great responsibility and you know he won't shirk his responsibility," Greg told her.

"I know," Jules sighed with a resigned smile. "I just hoped he'd be here for this."

"What did the doctor say?" he asked.

"Could be another few hours yet," she informed him.

"Well, that's good, right? Give him a better chance of making it," Greg said, trying to cheer her up.

Jules' labour progressed steadily. Greg felt uncomfortable being there at such an intimate time in her life. He felt useless as she cried out in pain and tried to breathe through it. He held her hand, substituting for her absent husband. After a couple of hours, his hand ached from the amount of times she'd squeezed it.

From time to time a nurse or the midwife would come in to the room and check how the labour was progressing. They were happy that everything was as it should be. Mom and baby were doing fine. It was another hour before a fully suited-up, out of breath, Sam Braddock burst into the room where his wife was in the throes of labour.

"You're here!" she cried upon seeing her husband.

He rushed to her side, took her hand and kissed her tenderly. Then he turned to Greg.

"Thanks, Boss," he said, grateful that his wife wasn't alone though this.

"You're welcome," Greg said, getting to his feet. "Now you come over here, take her hand while I go get mine x-rayed," he joked.

"Sarge!" Jules exclaimed. "It wasn't that bad, was it?"

"No, you know I'm kidding. I'll wait outside, if that's okay. I have a feeling it won't be long now," Greg said, kissing her on the forehead and then shaking Sam's hand. "Good luck you two."

Greg found a vending machine and got a coffee. He found a comfortable chair and relaxed into it. It was only then that the sounds and smells of hospital life re-ignited memories of the months he had spent recovering from his wounds. He had grown to hate hospitals, which was understandable. He tried to block out the memories and think more positively about the new life that was about to be brought into the world. It was a time to celebrate. He knew that, he just had to remind himself.

Two more cups of coffee later and Sam emerged from the maternity unit carrying a tiny bundle. A grin extended from ear to ear as he looked down in awe at the tiny miracle he was cradling in his arms. Greg stood expectantly when he saw him approach.

"I've got a daughter," Sam said, as if he could hardly believe it. "A little girl."

"Congratulations!" Greg said, peering down at the perfect little creature he was holding. "She's beautiful."

"Isn't she?" Sam replied in wonder. "Just perfect. Seven pounds eight ounces," he declared proudly.

"And how's Jules?" Greg asked.

"Tired but thrilled," Sam told him.

"I'm so happy for you both," Greg said, slapping Sam on the back. "Have you a name yet?"

"Yeah. Sarge, meet Sadie Braddock."

To be continued...


	15. Chapter 15

A/N - Sorry for the delay guys. Here we go. Second last chapter!

**Chapter 15**

Following the birth of little Sadie, Greg's outlook on life appeared changed, especially since Sam and Jules asked him to be godfather to their daughter. He was touched. Accepting, he took the role seriously and vowed to look out for the little girl all through her life.

He finally started living again. He pushed himself more and more and was no longer afraid to be seen as the guy with the cane. It was now part of who he was and he had accepted that. He also decided that it was time to share his experiences of the day of the bombings with others.

Ever since the day he was injured, there had been request after request from TV channels, newspapers, magazines, each looking for an interview with the SRU hero from Black Friday. He had been labelled that and had only found out accidently after Dean let it slip one day as he lay in the hospital. At the start he didn't want to talk about it with anyone. It was too painful and he had found that a lot of it was unclear anyway. But as he recovered, it came back to him bit by bit, sometimes at inconvenient moments, maybe a sound or a smell would trigger a memory that, at times, would leave him shaken or upset.

Now the day was clear in his head, every terrible moment. He was adamant that people should know that he was not the only hero that day. There were hundreds of unmentioned heroes. He didn't want them to go unnoticed. Once he had come to the decision to give an interview, he checked with his family and his team if they had any objections, as what he would talk about would involve them. Then he ran it by the SRU publicity office in case they had any objections to the interview. Not surprisingly, they didn't object.

Many of the TV stations offered large amounts of money for the interview, but the money didn't motivate Greg. He didn't want to profit from the misery of others. He agreed to do a one-off interview with the local news channel on the understanding that the payment offered be made to a special aid fund that was set up to help families of the victims of the bombings.

The interview was to be recorded at a studio at the TV station's headquarters. Dean and Marina accompanied Greg to the studio as moral support. He felt nervous as an assistant led him in to introduce him to the presenter, Heather Niven. She was beautiful, he noted, and intimidating but he quickly discovered that she was also warm and friendly and made him feel at ease. The setting was relaxed and there was no studio audience which made it that bit easier. Soon he was seated, miked up and ready to go.

Once the cameras were rolling, the presenter greeted him and gave a quick overview of his SRU career for the benefit of those who didn't already know him.

"Sergeant Parker, the majority of Toronto residents will remember you as the face of calm on our TV screens during a time of terror. Can you tell us how the 6th of December started out for you?"

"Yes, Heather. It actually started out a beautiful day, in fact better than most. I attended the wedding of two of my team mates. It was really special ceremony, really beautiful," Greg told her.

"A wedding? And how did you end up at work if you were attending a wedding?"

"Well, the ceremony had been arranged to suit the groom's father and the reception was to be held after Team One's shift. Who would have thought the day would have ended as it did?"

"And when did you first know that something was wrong?"

"We had just clocked in and SRU got a call from the 911 centre informing us that they'd located a suspicious package so my team took the call. We headed over to their building and quickly discovered that the device that they had found was a viable device and we evacuated all non-essential personnel. Our bomb tech was working on disarming the device when their switch boards lit up as calls started to come through about an explosion at the Health and Welfare Office. I suppose that was the moment I realised that this would not be just another day on the job."

"And how did you feel at that moment?" Heather asked.

"Apprehensive, worried, I guess," Greg replied. "When dealing with terrorism, you have no idea what to expect. Terrorists target the innocent, that's what scared me the most."

"So you and your team responded to the call at the federal building?"

"Some of my team deployed over there, but I remained at the 911 centre along with my bomb tech who was still working on the device. I asked the remaining employees to evacuate for their own safety, but they refused, saying that the ordinary people of the city needed them and that it was their duty to be there for them. While at the time I probably didn't agree, I can now see that they were right. Thankfully, Spike, my bomb tech, was able to disable the bomb and the call centre was made safe."

"When your colleagues got to the Federal Building, what did they see?"

"To be honest, Heather, I wasn't there so I can only describe what they told me. I understand the scene was panicked with injured lying on the street, some deceased. People were shocked and disorientated. My team were traumatised by what they witnessed, but they are trained to handle traumatic incidents so they did what they had to do to secure the scene," he told her.

"I understand that they were involved in rescuing the children from the day care centre."

"That's correct. Officer Jules Callaghan, at great risk to her personal safety, climbed through an unstable area to get to those trapped. While she was in there another bomb exploded, this time at City Hall."

"How did you feel at that stage?"

"How did I feel?" Greg repeated, considering his answer. "I suppose, by then, I was scared. I knew my son was in the city, my team were out there at risk and I had no idea what was coming next…..at least until I spoke to the bomber."

"You spoke to him?"

"He called the 911 centre. At first I thought it was a hoax, but he proved he was who he said he was. And when he told me that there were several more devices, a chill ran up my spine. I knew then that this day would end badly. They upgraded the threat to a category one emergency and dispatchers tried to get emergency personnel from outlining areas drafted in to help out. Things got worse when cell phone signals crashed and communication was interrupted. Fear was spreading throughout the city."

"So you decided to quell their fears?"

"Not exactly. I wanted the Mayor to make a statement but then I was informed that he had been injured in the blast at City Hall so they asked me to do it."

"How did you know what to say? Did someone prepare it for you?"

"I wish. There wasn't time for that. I just decided to put myself in their shoes, tell people the truth and to try and maintain calm."

"And you did just that. People listened and were grateful."

"People can surprise us in times of stress. So many people that day were heroes and they didn't even know it," Greg replied.

"Is it true that an e-mail from the bomber with a video link gave you your first lead to identifying him?"

"Yes, my team was able to back trace it to a phone and ID the owner," Greg explained. "It led us to a college professor and we traced his location to the Casey Jeffers Building. Unfortunately, the bomber led us there and it was a trap designed to kill more officers. The building exploded as I got there, killing the professor and 2 SRU officers," Greg told her, struggling to keep his composure as he recalled losing Donna.

"I understand that you lost a good friend in that explosion," Heather said.

Greg nodded, taking a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," she said, acknowledging his emotion.

"So am I. A lot of people were lost that day. So many people suffered loss or injury and are left with scars that will take a long time to heal," he reminded her.

"If I can take you back to that day, when did you discover that you had been exposed to radiation?"

"Not long after that explosion. A fire fighter told me that his readings were high. I had to presume the rest. Unfortunately, protocol meant that I had to be decontaminated along with anyone else who had entered the blast area and that meant that I could no longer command Team One or help locate the bomber… or so I thought. Thanks to quick thinking of an officer back at HQ, I got a new head set and uniform sent to me so I could listen in and give advice from the stadium while my team hunted this guy down."

"You were taken to Fletcher stadium after that," Heather prompted.

"Yes. The decontamination tents were erected and Hazmat personnel were there to carry out a panel of tests on us."

"How did you feel at this stage? I mean, were you worried about the health implications of radiation exposure?"

"To be honest, all that was bothering me at that time was that I didn't know what was going on regarding the hunt for the bomber. Until that new equipment reached me, I couldn't help my team. I completely trusted their ability to get the guy, I was just frustrated at not being part of it anymore," Greg admitted.

"Your team did manage to identify the bomber soon after," Heather explained.

"Yes. Our information led us to realise that the bomber was probably a student or former student of the professor who had been killed in the explosion in the Casey Jeffers Building. From that my team analysed the students, were able to exclude most of them and thanks to Marcus Faber's technical proficiency, we were actually able to use that to help identify him. My team searched his house. He wasn't there but they did find bomb making equipment and information that led them to the locations of the remaining bombs. Thanks to that discovery we were able to avert more carnage and save countless lives."

"But the danger wasn't fully averted," Heather said, encouraging Greg to continue.

"Unfortunately not. We knew there was another bomb but we just didn't know where. All of Faber's attacks had been against what he saw as forces of control. To understand him, we had to get into his mind and think like him. As I stood and looked around the stadium, at cops, soldiers, fire fighters, medics, I realised that the stadium was full of those he hated so it seemed probable that he might target the stadium itself. We started an evacuation and while that was going on I began a search in the roof of the stadium, which we thought would be the most likely location, mainly because it would cause the maximum damage and disperse any radioactive material into the air."

"Why did you do this alone?"

"I wasn't doing it alone. Several commanding officers of other services were involved in checking other areas. This stadium is huge and the device could have been in any of a hundred locations. I chose the area I thought he would most likey target. Turned out I was right."

"Was it just luck that you found the device?" Heather asked.

"I don't know. Luck? Bad luck? Who knows?"

"What were your initial thoughts when you found it?"

"A combination of fear and relief; relief that it had been found, fear that I was going to have to try disarm it."

"Would disarming bombs be part of your training?" Heather asked.

"We are taught some bomb handling techniques, but there are specialists who would normally be called for something like this," Greg told her.

"And why weren't they there?"

"There just wasn't time. There was less than 4 minutes on the timer when I found it. Luckily, I had Spike in my ear and I knew he'd talk me through it. I was mindful of anti-handling mechanisms that Faber had applied to the other devices so I had to be extra careful. Spike talked me through checking the circuit on the bomb and from that he was able to determine that the bomber hadn't time to include the anti-handling devices on this bomb. A stroke of luck, I guess," Greg said with a smile.

"Absolutely."

"Well, that was when my luck changed," Greg told her. "Faber appeared and started firing in my direction. I returned fire, then I took a hit in the vest."

"Meaning you were shot?" Heather clarified.

"Well, yeah, I was winded but I was okay. I heard him shout at me to get away from the bomb. I asked Spike what I had to do next and he said to lift the cover and get to the power source. I was doing that when he shot me again in the leg," Greg said, patting his injured leg.

He paused, taking a breath and trying to staunch the quiver in his voice.

"I fired back and then I felt a searing pain in my chest. It knocked me off my feet. I knew then that I was in big trouble."

Heather looked on, eyes wide and mouth open, as she listened intently.

"All I could think of was that I had to get back and finish what I was doing. I could taste blood in my mouth and knew that was a bad sign. I was afraid I would lose consciousness before I had made the bomb safe. I remember trying to talk to Faber, to reason with him. I managed to crawl back to the bomb. All I could hear was Spike yelling at me to cut the wire so I did. After that it becomes a bit of a blur. Faber approached me, or so I'm told. He was intent on killing me, but my team members got there just in time and shot him dead. They saved my life."

"Despite saving hundreds of innocent people, you were left grievously wounded and fighting for your life," Heather said seriously.

"Yes, they tell me it was a close one," Greg said, nodding.

"And you spent several months in the hospital afterwards," she continued.

"I did and I'd like to take this opportunity to thank the surgeons, nurses and all the medical staff at Trinity General for getting me back on my feet," Greg said, looking into the camera.

"Such an extreme experience must have had an impact on you personally and your team," Heather suggested.

"Well, I can only speak for my own experience but I imagine everyone touched by the events of that day were impacted in some way or other," Greg told her. "I went through a lot of personal turmoil. I had lost a good friend. I felt guilty about that…"

"Why guilty?"

"I ordered her into the situation that got her killed. I have to live with that," Greg replied.

Heather didn't know how to respond to that. Greg continued.

"Then there were my injuries which turned out to be career-ending. That was a bitter pill to swallow. It was hard, harder than I expected, but I was lucky to have people watching out for me and ready to kick me into shape whenever I lose my way."

"So, Sergeant Parker, how do you come back from such an experience? What does the future hold?"

"You know, Heather, for a long time, I wasn't sure if I could come back. I wasn't sure where my future lay. Now, I realise that I have a place in this world, despite my injury. In fact, I've been offered an instructor position at the Police Academy. I haven't discussed it with my family yet, but I'm considering it. My son will be joining the new recruits this year so it might be a bit weird for him having his old man as an instructor. Whatever happens, I remain grateful that I was given a second chance when so many others were not."

"Thank you, Sergeant Parker. I thank you and your city thanks you for what you did that day. I wish you good luck with whatever you chose to do."

Greg shook her hand and as he stood up, he smiled over at Dean and Marina who were giving him a mini round of applause. He felt as if he had taken another step towards recovery.

TBC...


	16. Chapter 16

**_A/N – Thank you all for being so kind and encouraging as I muddled through this story. I might even try another Flashpoint fic, now that I know you're all so cool in this fandom._**

**_Also – I want to congratulate the Flashpoint creators/writers/directors/actors who won awards at the Canadian Film and Television Awards this week._**

**_And finally, my disclaimer – as I am not one of those who won an award, I clearly do not own the rights to the Flashpoint characters and am only borrowing them for fun!_**

Chapter 16

The interview was well received and Greg had no regrets about doing it. It acted as a watershed for him. It allowed him to close a chapter in his life and open a new one. He relished the role of godfather to Sadie, spoiling the little girl constantly with gifts and cuddles whenever he could. Sam and Jules delighted in Greg's enthusiasm and were always glad to see him visit.

Later that year, Dean graduated from high school and, having gone through a series of tests and evaluations, was among those selected to attend the Police Academy. Greg couldn't help but be proud. He had accepted the position as Head Instructor in the Academy, in the hopes of passing on his years of on-the-job knowledge and experience to the next generation of Canadian Law Enforcement. Dean was very open to the fact that his dad could be one of his instructors in the academy; as he told his father, "Who better to learn from than the best?"

To Greg, it seemed that when he accepted the job that he had loads of time to prepare. Jack Douglas, the current Head Instructor, was retiring at the end of October which was months away, or so it seemed, but those months whizzed by. The hardest part of it all was handing in his resignation papers to the SRU, walking away from a life he treasured and admitting that he could not go back.

Now Greg found himself standing at the base of the steps of the main building of the Police Academy, remembering his own time there and wondering how he could possibly emulate the great Jack Douglas, a legend of his time. There was a weight of expectation on his shoulders as he slowly climbed the steps and walked through the ornate doors into his future.

It took him some time to settle into his role at the academy. He got to know the other instructors and to see how things were done there. A lot of his time was spent doing administration work, planning schedules, devising training scenarios to test the new recruits and liaising with the other instructors regarding their course work. It was very far removed from what he used to do at SRU. It was hardly edge-of-your-seat stuff, but he recognised the importance of preparing the fresh-faced new recruits for the dangers they would face on active duty. He had a wealth of experience and was eager to share it.

After the first few weeks he was getting into his stride, growing in confidence at his suitability for the job. He drove home feeling as close to normal as he had felt in a long, long time. Marina was in the kitchen of his apartment when he got there. He walked up to her and put his arms around her waist as she stirred a pan of sauce of the hob. She leaned back into him and he kissed her neck.

"Mmmm, something smells good," he said, looking over her shoulder.

"It's just Bolognese," she said in reply.

"I wasn't talking about the food," he said and she laughed.

She turned around and kissed him properly.

"So how was work?" she asked.

"It was good. I think I'll get to like it there," he said, taking a bottle of water from the fridge.

"I knew you would. You're perfect for that job," she told him.

He smiled.

"Are you looking forward to your retirement party on Friday?" she asked.

"Not really," he replied.

"Not really? Why?" she asked.

"I don't know. It's all kind of embarrassing," he told her. "I mean sitting there knowing people are feeling sorry for me. I'm not sure I even want to go."

"Well you have to go," she told him in no uncertain terms. "A lot of people have gone to a lot of trouble to give you a good send-off. Don't you let them down! They're people that love you and want you to know how much you mean to them. If you don't do it for yourself, do it for them. Please."

"I know," Greg admitted. "It's just jitters, I guess. You know how I hate those things."

"Yeah, I do, but this is important, Greg," Marina reminded him.

"I know, I know, don't worry, I'll be there," he said, flopping into the sofa with a sigh.

Greg knew that the retirement dinner would be a tortuous event for him; a night of praise, a night of speeches, a night of toasts, a night of being in the limelight. He hated being the centre of attention. He knew that when he walked into that room, every eye would be on him and every person would pity him as he limped to his seat. Not only that but this event would make it official. He would no longer be a member of the Strategic Response Unit. He wasn't sure if he would be able to hold it together throughout the night, he just hoped he could.

Friday, the night of the retirement party, seemed to sneak up on him. He finished work early that afternoon and came home to get ready for the party. Dean was hoping to get back from the Ontario Police College where he was in the middle of his 12 week training stint. Marina was getting dressed when he entered the bedroom. She was wriggling into a stunning, figure-hugging white dress which Greg appreciated no end.

"Good timing," she said when he entered. "I need some help with the zipper."

Greg walked up behind her and slowly pulled up the zip. She turned and kissed him on the lips.

"You look amazing," he said.

"Aw, thanks. Now, go on, get ready," she said, shoving him towards the bathroom.

Greg showered, shaved and spruced himself up. Marina was waiting for him in the living room.

"Not bad," she said as he emerged from the bedroom.

Greg was a little quiet and Marina sensed his apprehension.

"You nervous?"

"A little," he admitted as he sat down beside her.

"It's only for a couple of hours," Marina reminded him. "And you'll be among friends. Did you hear from Dean?"

"Yeah. He's probably not going to make the dinner, but he'll be here later," Greg told her.

"Shall we go?" Marina asked.

"Let's do it," Greg replied, trying to sound enthusiastic.

When they arrived at the hotel, they were greeted by friends and colleagues, everyone delighted to see Greg looking so well and in such good spirits. They mingled with guests and Greg relaxed into the occasion a little. Ed and Sophie were there, as were the rest of the members of the former Team One.

Ed took Greg aside at one point, leaving the ladies to chat.

"How are you doing with this?" he asked, knowing that Greg had been dreading this night for some time.

"Better than I thought," he replied.

"Well, it will be over in a couple of hours, then we can chill out," Ed told him.

"I know. Thanks, Buddy," Greg replied. "Come on, let's sit."

They all sat at the same table. Not long afterwards, Commander Hollaran took to the stage. He welcomed Greg and Marina and thanked the invited guests for being part of the celebration of Sergeant Parker's career. He proceeded to inform the room of the plaudits and accolades that Greg had achieved throughout his highly successful SRU career. He spoke eloquently about a man who had inspired and led by example and gave everything he had to connect, respect and protect. He finished by thanking Greg for his years of dedicated service and wished him well in his new role as head instructor at the academy.

He then invited Ed Lane up to say a few words on behalf of Team One. Ed looked at Greg and stood, patting him on the back as he walked behind him towards the stage.

"Thank you, Ladies and Gentlemen. As you may know, tonight is a bitter sweet occasion for Team One because while we wish to celebrate Greg's new career, we are losing the best sergeant this unit has ever seen. We all know that Greg Parker would rather be anywhere else instead of sitting here, listening to this. If it wasn't for his incredible bravery and self-sacrifice, Greg would still be our boss, working alongside us, keeping us straight and probably saving our butts. But as he has done throughout his entire career, a year ago he chose to put the safety of others ahead of himself and as I'm sure you all know by now, it nearly cost him his life. Thankfully though, he's one stubborn SOB and didn't give in. His recovery was long and difficult, but he got through it and thank God, is back to full health," Ed said with a hint of emotion as a round of applause grew.

Greg squirmed in his seat, conscious of the dozens of pairs of eyes looking at him. His shying gaze met that of Jules Braddock and she winked at him, immediately putting him at ease. Marina found his hand and gave a gentle squeeze.

"Greg's retirement will undoubtedly leave a huge gap in SRU. For over a decade he has led Team One and he has seen us though some tough times. He has had to deal with some of the most stressful and dangerous situations imaginable and all the while he managed to carry out his job with professionalism, integrity and humanity. I have been lucky enough to work alongside him for a long time now and I have placed my life in his hands on so many occasions without question because I knew, and I still know, that this man would ever let me down. He never did and I know he never will. I look around and see so many faces down there and I have no doubt that a lot of you in some way or other owe your life to this man," Ed continued.

"Greg told me once that he had been ordered to draw a line between being a friend and being a sergeant to his team. He was told that it was the only way to remain objective and be a responsible boss. Greg found this difficult because he has such a big heart but he proved the cynics wrong. Anyone who had the pleasure of becoming a part of Greg's team became a part of his family and quickly found out that this is a family for life. Being the boss was a role he was born for, though he may not agree. He is a leader of men, strong and courageous, loyal and dependable. There is nothing he wouldn't do for his team, for his family. But being a leader also means making difficult decisions and down through the years there were times when he had cause to make such decisions. The consequences weighed heavily upon him personally, a weaker man might walk away, but Greg always came back for more. He needed his team as much as we needed him," Ed explained. He looked down and Greg nodded in agreement.

"It's going to take a lot of getting used to not having you around in the barn every day, my friend. Our loss is the Academy's gain. I hope they know how lucky they are to have you and your depth of experience to draw upon. But you know you'll always be part of this SRU family, Greg. Families evolve, people may move on, but they will always be part of that family and we are family. I, for one, am so glad that you didn't draw that line, Greg, because even though you were my boss, you were also the best friend a guy could have and I look forward to being your friend for a long, long time," Ed told him.

Greg pinched back tears that were threatening to fall.

"I won't embarrass you any longer, Buddy. I know you are cringing as I'm speaking so with that in mind, I'd just like to invite everyone to be upstanding and to raise your glasses," Ed said, pausing to let the guests rise.

"To Sergeant Gregory Parker."

"Sergeant Gregory Parker," echoed around the room.

Greg was very touched and as everyone sat back down he stood. Ed returned to his seat and shook Greg's hand, hugged him and Greg thanked him. Applause erupted as Greg limped to the steps and slowly climbed on stage.

"Thank you," he said shyly leaning into the mike. "Thank you. I don't know what to say," he stammered. "It feels weird standing up here and being recognised for doing something that I loved. Em, I just like to thank a few people who, without them, I'm not sure if I would have made it through the last year. Marina, you are my strength. You remind me that life is a gift," he said, looking directly at her.

"Eddie, Buddy, you saved my life, in more ways than one. You are my brother. Team One, as Eddie said, you are my family. I love you all."

"It is with a heavy heart that I retire from the SRU, but I am grateful at having the opportunity to serve with such brave and talented people and I have no doubt that you will continue to serve this city with distinction."

"Finally, I just want to thank all of you for attending and for your kind wishes. Now, enough talking, I'm pretty sure they're ready to serve the food. Enjoy the rest of the night."

Greg returned to his seat to more applause and a few wolf whistles. He kissed Marina as he sat down and received the congratulations of his friends who sat around the table. Once the speeches were out of the way, they all relaxed and enjoyed the rest of the evening.

Later that evening, as people started to leave, Ed suggested that the team meet up in the barn for old time's sake. They travelled separately, Ed arriving first. He wandered around the office and locker room and remembered good times. He felt a pang of grief as he stood at Donna's locker, now a permanent shrine to her memory.

Spike and Winnie arrived, Ed teasing them about holding hands in the office. Then Sam and Jules arrived with baby Sadie. Leah arrived with them. Finally, Greg and Marina made an appearance. They chatted briefly before Ed suggested that they take a few minutes to spend together, their last time as Team One.

Winnie took Sadie from Jules and she and Marina left the team to their memories. Spike shared out a six pack of beers, and considerately included a soda for Greg. They made a toast to absent friends.

"To the new team leader of Team Three," Greg said, toasting Sam.

"Thank you," Sam replied. "And to the new Head Instructor at the Academy, bravely teaching the next generation."

"And to Sergeant Ed Lane, for taking Team One forward," Jules said, raising her beer.

"Sarge."

"Cheers," they saluted in unison.

Greg looked around the barn, recalling old times, a twinge of loss in his heart.

"I miss it," he admitted, biting back his emotions. "Miss it like hell."

"I know you do," Ed told him.

"But you're here Ed. You're all here and I've got my hand on your backs, just like you've always had your hands on mine," Greg told them, his eyes brimming with tears.

Ed could see his emotional state and decided to interrupt the moment to rescue him.

"Come on," he said, leading them to the conference room.

They sat around the table, drank and reminisced on what used to be and toasted what was to come.

"Team One."

**THE END/FIN**

_**A/N - I hope its not too cheesy. Thanks again...it's been fun!**_


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